Chereads / Interdimensional Scientist, Starting from Cyberpunk / Chapter 152 - No Guns, No Cannons.

Chapter 152 - No Guns, No Cannons.

In the badlands...

A flashy Geckol vehicle raced across the desert. The car seemed to be equipped with some kind of holographic projection device, making it almost blend seamlessly with the desert, making it hard to spot from a distance.

The graffiti on it indicated their affiliation—

Wraith.

The most ruthless gang in the badlands around Night City.

In the passenger seat, a man hooked up to a drone interface was behaving as if he were high on drugs:

"This is insane! The militech people weren't lying, this thing is absolutely amazing!"

"Whoa, the enemy's gun is pretty solid. Let me check out this automatic dodge feature."

"Holy crap, this firepower... it's like a cannon hitting people!"

"Woohoo! Here comes a big one!"

The driver, impatient as a cat on a hot tin roof, shouted, "My turn, my turn!"

"Just drive the car—oh man, that big guy over there is no joke!"

"Come on, bro, it's my turn!"

"Alright, alright, you take it—calm down, like a monkey on fire. Pull over first."

The driver slammed the brakes, and the guy in the passenger seat, just as he was taking off the drone controller, smashed headfirst into the windshield, cutting his forehead on a piece of metal sticking out from the Gecko.

"Damn you! Do you even know how to drive?!"

But the driver didn't care; he yanked the drone controller out of his friend's hands and plugged it into his own neural interface.

"I'm talking to you—" the guy in the passenger seat smacked the driver's head—

And as soon as the driver put on the VR control goggles, he started convulsing violently, smoke even rising from his head!

"Aaaaargh—uh—aaaaaaahhh!"

"Whoa…"

Bang!

The VR goggles exploded, and so did the unlucky driver's head.

The Wraith who had just removed the controller gulped, then kicked his "good buddy" out of the car and took over the driver's seat!

As he made the kick, he happened to see through the rearview mirror something speeding across the desert—

The dust behind it was terrifying, like a sandstorm!

It was a Quadra Type 66 Javelina 

In panic, he floored the gas pedal! But compared to the Javelina, the Gecko was sputtering and bouncing around so much it nearly shook his brain loose!

The Javelina caught up in mere seconds. The desperate driver stomped the gas even harder, sending the car bouncing over a small hillock, only for the Javelina to slam into it from behind!

Bang!

The Gecko flipped through the air, performing a front somersault before crashing down violently.

The driver inside was almost knocked senseless, blood streaming from his forehead. As he came to his senses, he looked up to see a woman pointing a sniper rifle at him, her eyes gleaming with blue light.

"Uh, mercy?"

Click.

Before he could finish his plea, his neural interface sparked, and he collapsed onto the steering wheel.

The nomads following behind finally caught up—

At this point, there was no need for words. They could all see the shock in each other's eyes.

These three guys... were really something else.

There was no staying at the Aldecaldo camp anymore.

Even though they had taken down the two who were secretly controlling the drones, who knew if anyone else had pinpointed the camp's location?

The damage caused by Griffin at the camp was immense too. Not to mention the smashed solar panels, which had also cut several cables and crushed several terminals.

Then there were the broken machine gun turrets and damaged vehicles...

The already impoverished tribe was facing even worse hardship.

To make matters worse, several people had been shot and were bleeding out uncontrollably—and in this barren wilderness, where could they find medicine?

People hurriedly gathered what usable supplies they could, preparing to flee, but there was a heavy atmosphere weighing on them.

This was the fundamental weakness of the nomads—

Once their home base was discovered, it wasn't just about facing corporate armies; even a few drones could catch them off guard.

Maybe they could have dealt with the drones without Leo, but at what cost?

The corporations would only lose a few drones; they could easily send more.

But the nomads were losing lives, real human lives.

Panam looked around the camp, speechless.

Saul, seeing her like that, just patted her on the shoulder. "Scorpion and Mitch are still out there. Let's get ready."

Panam nodded sadly, hiding her emotions.

Leo thought to himself, it seems the plot had already shifted significantly—

Saul and Panam's argument must have softened.

Moreover, the three of them going to the checkpoint was probably Saul's idea: if they were planning to flee, they'd need to scout the checkpoint for intel.

Even if they didn't check the checkpoint, someone would have to go out and see if there were other opportunities.

Something had to be done, it was just a matter of who would be targeted next.

According to V's description, the car was equipped with military-grade optical camouflage.

The Wraiths themselves were also nomads, they are as familiar with the badlands as the Aldecaldos, and with the help of optical camouflage and drones, this situation was somewhat predictable.

What wasn't expected was the Militech sponsored and armed the Wraiths.

Saul turned around and sincerely thanked Leo.

Things were different now—

No matter how legendary they were, they couldn't just ignore this.

Now, it was a different story.

"Thank you for your help, but the situation is dire."

"Yeah, it's bad—what's your next move?"

Saul sighed.

Leo could see that he was trying to maintain his composure.

Given the Aldecaldos' current state, if the corporations decided to make a move, even a slight push would crush them right on the outskirts of Night City.

Running wasn't an option, but fighting… how?

Saul was a just and fair leader of the tribe, but that didn't mean he was all-powerful.

Saul looked at Leo. "If we work for you... how many of us can survive?"

Leo shook his head. "I won't make that promise—you're the one who has to make that choice."

"Then what do you plan to do?"

"Fight back." Leo's answer was simple and direct. It was the most impossible, most suicidal-sounding response.

Just as Saul's brow furrowed, Leo added, "You're worried about supplies, about weapons and ammo, about medicine and cyberware.

But the enemy has those things—if they want us dead, it's even less realistic to think about peaceful coexistence than what I'm proposing."

"Taking a step back, only a strong tribe of nomads has the leverage to negotiate. Otherwise, you're just lab rats for human experiments."

"Now is the time to make your decision, Saul."

The two spoke openly, their voices loud enough to be heard by anyone paying attention.

Saul wasn't the type to hold secret discussions behind his tribe's back, especially on matters that would decide their future.

And Leo knew Saul wasn't that kind of person, so hiding anything from the group would have been counterproductive.

As a result, the busy people around them slowed down, or even stopped what they were doing to listen.

No matter how much criticism or dissatisfaction they had with Saul at times—

He had still earned his position as their leader, and they would listen to him.

Saul didn't hesitate long.

Or rather, he had already hesitated too long.

He said slowly, "Robbing a corporation is a tough job, especially in the badlands—but you're in luck. We're all experts here."

"Yeah—!"

"That's right!"

"Aldecaldos don't take this lying down!"

The crowd's mood suddenly lifted—

The peaceful faction among the nomads was always a minority.

Because they were all made into nomads by the corporations in the first place.

Leo smiled. "Then let's deal with the immediate problem first."

There were still two Aldecaldo members out there, and several injured people in the temporary hospital who had passed out from blood loss.

As for the former, no one in Night City was more professional than Leo's trio when it came to mercenary work.

As for the latter, that also happened to fall within Leo's expertise.

Leo had a feeling their cooperation would become long-term—

This was a perfect match.