The Flying Motorcycle

Night City, Militech Tower.

The corporation was running smoothly, but to achieve total dominance, they needed to take down the company across the street—Arasaka.

It was time for a change.

Meredith Stout splashed water on her face in front of the mirror. A series of warnings popped up on her cybernetic HUD:

[Heart Rate Warning: Current heart rate consistently above normal levels.]

[Sleep Analysis: Recent sleep duration significantly below necessary levels.]

[Adrenaline Level Excessive: Current value 166pg/ml, persistently over the limit.]

[Melatonin deficiency, cortisol imbalance, thyroid hormone irregularities detected.]

She was feeling lightheaded, but that didn't matter. Another dose of Militech's employee-grade military stimulants surged through her system, and she was back to full alertness.

Wiping her face, she stepped out of the restroom and ran into Anthony Gilchrist—the agent recently sent over from headquarters.

Technically, Anthony was just a squad leader in the operations division, but in terms of security clearance, he was among the highest-ranked individuals in Militech's Night City branch.

That position was supposed to belong to Meredith—until she made a critical mistake.

In this company, security clearance was everything. Titles were just for show; true power came from internal loyalty. The higher the clearance, the greater the potential for advancement.

Without clearance, you were nothing.

In other words, Meredith was on borrowed time. The company would replace her soon enough—and the likeliest successor was standing right in front of her.

She had to strike first.

Meredith's expression was icy as she looked at Anthony.

He had neatly combed black hair and wore the standard Militech men's uniform—black suit jacket over a crisp white shirt.

Perhaps because his transfer to Night City came with a promotion, there was a barely concealed smirk on his lips—confident, self-satisfied.

If some street kid saw him, they'd sum him up in one sentence: "Corporate lapdog."

Anthony smiled. "Director Stout, how's your conversation with Mayor Ryan going? Are we securing the contract for the homeless cleanup project?"

"That's none of your concern. It's proceeding as planned. Keeping our support lines intact is your job."

"That's not what I've been hearing. Let me remind you—corporate interests come first. This mayoral election is a prime opportunity. If you screw it up—"

Meredith shot him a warning look.

Anthony raised his hands in mock surrender. "Not that I think that will happen. In fact, we'll soon have even more leverage."

"You're talking about the corporate convoy?"

"You don't need to worry about that." Anthony's smirk widened. "Everything is in place. If my timing is right, they should be clearing customs any moment now."

With that, he turned and walked away.

Meredith's expression darkened. It was obvious—he didn't trust her. He had arranged for the vehicles to cross the border without her involvement.

Security clearance was power. It meant he could keep her in the dark on key operations.

But as she watched him leave, a question gnawed at her mind.

Was this a direct challenge?

Their rivalry was all but official. So why was he being so open about the convoy's arrival?

Was he really that confident nothing would go wrong?

Returning to her office, Meredith immediately sent a message to the Maelstrom gang.

[Recipient: Patricia]

[Meredith: Do your job well. The company will reward you.]

[Meredith: The vehicles are crossing early. Time to prove yourselves.]

Almost simultaneously, Anthony returned to his own office and sent a message to his chosen allies—his "brother unit" from overseas.

[Recipient: FIA Agent #0079]

[Anthony: The convoy is about to clear customs.]

[FIA Agent #0079: I'll remind you again—I can only guarantee the mechs onboard are functional. We have bigger priorities.]

[Anthony: That's good enough. As long as the cargo gets through, I'll find the internal leak myself.]

[Anthony: Appreciate it.]

North Watson Industrial District

Brick, the Maelstrom gang leader, hefted an oversized shotgun of Smart-Tech design as he strode toward the incoming convoy.

His eyes had been completely replaced by a set of glowing, orange-red compound optics, scanning every detail of his surroundings. His cybernetic enhancements were exposed—bare skin panels between mechanical plating revealed the implanted power core in his abdomen, glowing red.

His arms were thick with external wiring, snaking from his neck down to his fingertips, embedded in his synthetic flesh.

Boom!

He slammed one hand onto the side of a cargo van, leaving a visible dent.

A brute, no doubt. And one who led by example.

He glanced at the man beside him—a hulking figure even larger than himself. Though he wore a similar cybernetic faceplate, he was more reserved, clad in a black leather jacket to cover his augmentations.

This was Royce, his second-in-command.

Ten heavily modified Columbus freight trucks lined up at the factory gates, armor-plated with welded scrap metal, each adorned with Maelstrom's glowing multi-eyed skull insignia.

Roar!

Brick raised his shotgun, and engines thundered to life.

"Alright, boys, time to roll out!"

"Woohoo!"

The convoy roared down the road. Royce's truck was the last to leave. Before he departed, he locked eyes with one of the warehouse guards.

Their cybernetic optics flashed—an unspoken signal passed between them.

The guard turned and disappeared into the warehouse depths.

Royce had given the order.

Tonight, war begins.

Santo Domingo, Outskirts

Mackinaw had parked for a brief rest.

This job was tricky—she had to assist Meredith, a Militech insider while avoiding direct conflict with the corporation.

Her vehicle had been repainted and its armor reduced. The cargo hold?

Now modified to house a motorcycle.

An ARCH "Nazare "was heavily customized by Leo.

Beneath it, two high-grade methanol fuel tanks, a miniature turbine propulsion system, and a jet-assisted booster had been installed.

These modifications came from Marvel's Adrian Toomes—

[TN:Hoverbike time]

[Mechanical Lab R&D Results: Prototype Small-Vehicle Turbine & Jet Propulsion System]

[Lead Developer: Adrian Toomes]

[Description: A high-energy fuel-based turbine system adapted from the Vulture's wings.]

[Developer Notes: Leo, your request is insane, but I like it. Flying cars? Sure.]

[Your engine is interesting, but no known fuel has the energy density to make a turbine this small generate proper lift. Not even yours.]

[Osborn supplied the fuel for my Vulture tech—it's way beyond rocket-grade. Unless you can get your hands on something equally insane, this is the best I can do.]

[Jet-Turbine Motorcycle Mk. I Complete. +200 Tech Points]

[Current Tech Points: 7500]

Leo patted the motorcycle and said to Jack, "Remember the Motorcycle Rocket?"

Jackie's face lit up with excitement. "Hell yeah, brother, this thing!"

"This is the improved version. Didn't you ask for an upgrade last time? Try this one out first."

V, just as excited, ran her hands over the bike. The last time they pulled off a terror attack in the city center using motorcycles, she was still riding that old, unmodified Mackinaw Youth Edition!

"So this is a replica of the Motorcycle Rocket?"

"An upgraded version."

Leo pulled out three handguns—one was V's "Dying Night," and the other two were Jackie's golden "La Chingona Dorada," but they looked different.

Leo first slid "Dying Night" and one of the golden "La Chingona Dorada" forward. "The handguns can now fire Dragon's Breath rounds—pellets made of magnesium."

"When fired, they'll cause a fiery explosion, but the power is just average."

Leo handed "Dying Night" to V and signaled her to get on the bike.

V didn't hesitate. She hopped on and started the engine.

"The bullets aren't meant for shooting people. There's a button on the bike called 'Bounce Mode.' Press it."

V activated Bounce Mode. Suddenly, two small turbines under the motorcycle spun up fiercely! They kicked up a cloud of dust, and everyone around could feel the wind blast!

The engineers responsible for modifying the Mackinaw parts stood dumbfounded, as did Sherman, who had been frowning throughout the process.

That airflow... it didn't seem like something those three head-sized turbines could generate.

Not just that—the swirling air carried a familiar scent.

That scent was from the highest-grade fuel used for Mackinaw engines—

The same fuel is used for hovercars.

Leo pointed under the bike and took a few steps back. "Shoot beneath you!"

V didn't fully understand but still aimed the gun downward.

Just as she was about to fire, seeing her casual attitude, Leo hurriedly added, "Hold onto the handlebars!"

V pulled the trigger, and an enormous burst of dragon-like flames erupted from beneath the motorcycle!

The rising heat was channeled through the turbine system, converting it into a powerful launch force—

Boom!

The motorcycle shot up like a rocket, nearly pinning V against it with the sheer force!

Her Krenzikov cyberware kicked in at the last second, and she barely managed to grip the handlebars!

Thud.

The bike jumped about half a person's height, hovering slightly longer than normal before falling.

As it landed, the ground wobbled slightly, and unburned magnesium particles still smoldered in the dirt.

V and Jackie shouted in awe, "Holy shit!"

Sherman and his engineers echoed in a lower voice, "Holy shit..."

El Capitan remained silent, but in his heart, he also muttered Holy shit...

Leo patted Jackie's dumbfounded face and handed him the last handgun—this golden "La Chingona Dorada" had a long, extended adapter.

"This is your other sidearm. Try it twice first so I can observe—remember the special rounds?"

Jackie turned his head blankly, slowly recalling something—when he first received his golden "La Chingona Dorada," Leo did mention designing some custom bullets for him.

[Cross-Dimensional Matter Transfer: Death Warrior Special AP Rounds x3]

[Tech Points -500]

[Current Tech Points: 7000]

[Description: Special armor-piercing rounds designed for Death Warriors. Each is 176mm long with a tungsten steel core.]

[Developer Michael's Notes: Boss, this isn't my tech. The primer is unusual. Since we don't have any firearms experts here, I could only make a basic compatibility adjustment—you'll have to figure out the rest yourself.]

Leo pulled three bullets from his pocket and placed them in Jackie's hand.

"These are strong. Treat them like sniper rounds. Make sure to control the recoil."

Jackie nodded, but his mind was still stuck on the flying motorcycle.

As for Leo's warning...

They're just handgun rounds. How strong could they be?