3/4
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The battlefield's clamor was instantly replaced by eerie silence.
Militech soldiers firing furiously discovered with horror that their weapons' targeting assist HUDs instantly went dark, tactical optics covered by chaotic static.
However, this was merely the beginning.
A sharp, abnormal humming sound emanated from within their bodies—their survival-critical military-grade cyberware cores emitting final death throes.
Immediately after, acrid burning smells wafted from their neural ports and joint connections. Overload currents instantly fried precision control circuits and sensor components, causing their originally powerful military cyberware to instantly seize up, robbing them of combat capability.
Those buzzing drones in the air attempting to reacquire firing angles—internal control systems collapsed within the same microsecond by irresistible command streams. Navigation chips burned out. Rotors stopped. Like flying insects crushed by invisible hands, they tumbled from the sky, smashing into sand and ruins as scattered debris.
Two mechs advancing with heavy steps—their crimson optical sensors suddenly dimmed like snuffed cigarette butts. Massive frames violently lurched. Joint hydraulic systems hissed depressurizing. Fine electrical sparks burst from gaps before completely freezing in place, becoming two heaps of silent scrap.
Even those combat robots lacking direct neural interfaces, relying on internal programming—seemingly collectively infected by some lethal electronic plague.
Their logic cores were violently corrupted, programs descending into utter chaos: some spinning madly in place until motors burned out smoking; others incorrectly identified friendly units as threats, turning gun barrels toward other paralyzed robots or immobilized soldiers.
Though most weapons had already failed, this scene further intensified chaos and despair.
All Militech personnel still maintaining consciousness, not having brains directly fried, simultaneously heard through their not-yet-completely-failed auditory implants or built-in comms—a cold voice like rusted gears grinding, carrying zero emotional coloring, burning directly into their perception: "Purge."
Just an instant. The previously aggressive, absolutely advantaged Militech operation squad completely descended into paralysis and chaos.
Those barely still mobile were only a handful of infantry with almost no complex cyberware installed, wearing only basic ballistic vests. But they too were completely terrified by this god-punishment-like eerie spectacle. Gun-gripping hands trembled violently, standing lost in place, all fighting will evaporated.
"Holy... shit..." Rebecca's jaw dropped.
Then Cairo's voice rang through the crew channel—still that calm, unwavering tone, but content brooking no argument: "Maine, grab that augmented soldier, plus those two mechs, and all weapons and electronics I've marked. Load them onto that still-functional AV."
With his words, crew members' visual interfaces automatically showed highlighted markers indicating items to recover plus that "awakened" AV—engine rumbling low again.
"Take it back." Cairo supplemented. "Now."
"Copy that! Boss!" Maine immediately snapped to, suppressing inner shock, beginning to direct everyone. "Move! Do what the boss says! Load everything up! Dorio, you're on watch! Rebecca, Pilar—quit gawking!"
Everyone immediately sprang into action, rapidly loading the unconscious augmented soldier, key components stripped from mech frames, plus various marked weapons and equipment wreckage onto that AV hovering over the clearing.
——
On the other end at Militech command center, the virtual conference room was deathly silent.
All monitoring screens either showed static or froze on final chaotic frames.
All contact with forward operation squads completely severed.
"Reporting... we... we've lost all unit signals." The operator's voice was parched. "Including drones, robots, mechs... plus 'Switchblade' squad. Last received data showed massive, indiscriminate electronic overload feedback..."
The operations supervisor slammed a fist on the control console, face livid.
He didn't even know who the enemy was or what methods they'd used.
The opponent—merely through networks—had in one instant completely destroyed his well-equipped operation squad.
This power exceeded his comprehension scope.
The Biotechnica observer was equally pale-faced, muttering to herself: "This kind of network intrusion capability... Blackwall... must be Blackwall-related..."
They watched helplessly as final blurred transmitted footage showed Maine's crew loading their most advanced experimental cyberware soldiers, mech wreckage, and other equipment onto an AV that should've been paralyzed. Then that AV—under zero piloting—smoothly lifted off, turned south, vanishing into desert night.
——
Maine's crew squeezed into the slightly cramped AV cabin, watching desert rapidly passing outside windows. Complex feelings.
Post-survival relief, awe toward Cairo's power, plus worries about future uncertainties intertwined together.
"Fuck, nearly bought it this time." Pilar muttered with lingering fear.
"We'll settle up with Faraday back home." Maine's voice was low, carrying killing intent.
Rebecca stroked her plasma pistol, eyes bright: "But that move the boss just pulled was fucking sick! Wiped everything in one go!"
Dorio silently checked that nearly healed shallow mark on her arm, sensing surging power within.
Back in the city, Kiwi—after Cairo's consciousness withdrew—finally regained control of her own body.
She slumped in her chair. Cold sweat had already soaked her back.
That brief "possession" feeling made her deeply comprehend that "boss's" terror.
She dared no further hesitation, immediately beginning packing, contacting vehicles leaving the city.
Night City was no longer safe for her. She must reach the wasteland rendezvous with Maine and others ASAP.
——
This failed capture operation—like a sledgehammer blow—made both corporate higher-ups feel unprecedented shock and... greed.
Losing a squad and equipment certainly hurt, but the technology Maine's crew—or rather the existence behind them—displayed made them salivate even more.
Massively powerful energy weapons, cognition-transcending biological enhancement tech, plus most critical and most terrifying—that ability to instantly paralyze all electronic devices through network intrusion.
This was no longer just street merc small-fry stuff. Behind this must hide a massive force or individual controlling cutting-edge, possibly even epoch-making technology.
Militech and Biotechnica rapidly reached deeper secret cooperation intentions.
They needed mobilizing more resources, more covert methods to investigate the truth, to seize this power.
Night City's undercurrents—because of this brief desert-edge firefight—surged even more violently.
And in the wasteland workshop, Cairo had already redirected attention back to dimensional transport device data analysis.
To him, this small conflict was merely an interlude, an opportunity testing local faction reactions and collecting live combat data.
He'd obtained several decent "samples," also roughly gauging corporate bottom lines and methods.
"Hopefully these 'samples' will yield some valuable data." He watched the gradually approaching AV outside the workshop, crimson optical lenses flickering slightly. "As for corporate retaliation... if they're smart enough, they should know when to quit."
If not smart enough, he wouldn't mind making them pay deeper prices.