Chapter 50: Ten Minutes

The Alvarado cars designated for the mercs had been nearly wrecked during the earlier RPG bombardment. However, with only a handful of mercs still capable of fighting, the remaining vehicles, after some emergency repairs, were just enough to carry the ten mercs who could still continue the mission.

After stabilizing the four critically injured mercs and treating the lightly wounded, Oliver climbed into the new Alvarado.

"You think those four will actually make it to a hospital?"

"Who knows? All we can do is hope they get picked up before some punks or kidney thieves find them first."

Mann glanced through the rear window at the injured mercs left behind in a relatively safe spot. "If only they had Trauma Team memberships. They'd be airlifted out in minutes."

[Trauma Team]: A private medical corporation with highly trained combat medics. As long as clients can afford the insurance, Trauma Team will respond immediately to injuries, regardless of weather or location. Anyone attempting to interfere with their operations—be it gang members, mercenaries, or even another Trauma Team squad—will be dealt with accordingly.

"Yeah, right."

Oliver scoffed. "Even a basic silver membership costs 10,000 eddies a month. You think mercs like us, who blow all their cash the second they get it, can afford that kind of regular expense?"

"Fair point."

As the vehicle drove further away, Mann shifted his attention to another topic.

"What do you think they'll get paid?"

"Paid? You mean the mission payout?"

Karl glanced at him, not quite understanding why he was bringing this up. "The fixers already made it clear. Payment only comes when the job is complete—'delivered' means delivered. Anyone who died or was too injured to continue? They get jack shit."

"Motherfucker, I knew it!"

Mann clutched his forehead in frustration. "These corpo dogs planned this from the start! I was wondering why they were so 'generous'—turns out they just wanted to bleed us dry first, so they'd have to pay out less in the end. I should've known. Corpos never cut a check without making sure they get more in return."

"The worst part?" Karl continued, his tone almost amused in its cynicism. "Some corpos probably weren't even trying to screw us over. But all it takes is a few greedy bastards in the chain of command looking to pocket some of our cut."

It was always the same story—the ones in charge might be willing to pay fairly, but the ones actually executing the orders? They were the ones who'd skim the money, then turn around and act like mercs should be 'grateful' for whatever scraps they got.

"Shit, the more I think about it, the worse this job sounds."

Mann groaned, slumping back against his seat. He had mostly worked street-level gigs, so he wasn't familiar with how corpo contracts really worked.

Well, after this job, he sure as hell wouldn't be taking another one.

"Yeah, just thinking about it pisses me off."

Karl exhaled sharply, then suddenly noticed something—the Arasaka convoy was slowing down.

A moment later, their vehicles began moving aside, making way for the mercenaries' cars to take the lead.

"What the fuck?"

Jackie's temper flared instantly. "They're making us take point again? When they need us, they throw us into the meat grinder—when they don't, they tell us to fuck off?! But the second shit goes down, they'll be nowhere to be found!"

"They're banking on sunk cost fallacy," Karl said dryly. "We've already lost too much to back out now. They know we're desperate to finish the job—because if we don't, then all those deaths were for nothing."

"And what if we really just walk away? Or turn on them instead?"

Karl smirked. "That's the gamble. They're betting we won't."

Jackie clenched his fists, his patience gone.

"I swear, if I ever take another Arasaka job... I'm a fucking idiot."

Militech at least had Blanca, who provided decent gigs, so they were still worth keeping around.

"I gotta say... Blanca really wasn't that bad, huh?"

Oliver sighed. "You don't realize how good something is until you have something worse to compare it to."

"I could tell you guys a joke about corpos right now," Karl chuckled. "Arasaka runs on 6 AM to 2 AM shifts—twenty-hour workdays—and yet, in their free time, these corpo fucks still have the energy to nickel and dime mercs like us."

"Shit, guess they just instinctively know how to exploit people, huh?"

Jackie, despite his frustration, let out a laugh. "Man, that 'quick learner' line really got me."

As they talked, the Alvarado kept moving forward, automatically navigating through the Arasaka convoy, which had conveniently made way for them to take point again.

This time, though, every merc in the car had their door unlocked and slightly ajar—just in case they needed to bail at a moment's notice. The last RPG attack had left a lasting impression, and chances were, this was a habit they'd keep for a long time.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Nothing.

They drove straight through the North Watson Industrial Zone without a single incident.

No more attacks. No more RPGs. Not even a single enemy presence.

Had the attackers already exhausted all their resources? Had they simply given up after the failed ambush?

Karl wanted to convince himself that was the case, but something felt off.

The North Watson Industrial Zone was Maelstrom territory, but for some reason, Karl hadn't seen a single Maelstrom ganger the entire way.

Not one of those iconic glowing red cyber-eyes, not even in the shadows.

That wasn't normal.

"The ocean is always calm before the storm."

As they neared California Avenue, where the Azure Tower loomed in the distance, the air inside the car grew heavier.

Everyone could feel it.

The calm before the chaos.

The closer they got, the stronger the feeling became.

Then, just as Azure Tower's silhouette came into full view, Jackie spoke up.

"How much time left?"

Karl knew what he meant.

He also knew Jackie already had the answer—he just wanted Karl to say it out loud.

"One hour and ten minutes."

But that wasn't the real answer.

Jackie stared at the tower, estimating the distance.

It wasn't one hour and ten minutes.

It was ten minutes.

Because that's all they had left.