CYBERPUNK: Travel to 2075

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..Worth Doing..

The attack came faster than anyone expected.

Even faster than Karl and the others had prepared for.

They assumed the attackers would wait until the convoy reached its destination, striking when everyone was at their most relaxed. The team was ready to confront the enemy in ten minutes. But after checking the time and rounding the corner toward the Kanbi Building, the convoy behind them was ambushed.

Boom!

The deafening sound of artillery shattered the air. Karl, the first to recover, rolled out of the car. After taking cover and scanning his surroundings, he realized the attack wasn't in his immediate area.

"It's the convoy at the rear," Oliver said, stepping out of the vehicle with a Shingen submachine gun in hand. "The attackers have locked onto their target this time."

He narrowed his eyes. "The earlier retreat wasn't because they were outnumbered. It was a test."

Escort missions often relied on deception. Everyone knew that hiding a target was better than flaunting one. Move inconspicuously in a crowd, not boldly on an open road.

"They hit us first because they thought we might be carrying the target," Oliver explained. "Once they realized we weren't, they stopped wasting time on us."

Other mercenaries were already out of their vehicles, weapons drawn.

"What's the plan, Karl?" Jack asked.

Karl didn't hesitate. "We go back and save them."

While Arasaka's security team had refused to help them earlier, the situation was different now. The target was under their protection, and if the target died, the mission—and their payday—would be for nothing.

"Got a strategy, KK?" Mann asked, his respect for Karl evident after witnessing his calm leadership.

"No strategy," Karl said, unsheathing his Kenshin blade. "We kill them all."

He wasn't a professional bodyguard. He didn't know sophisticated protection tactics. All he knew was that eliminating every threat would secure the target.

There were ten mercenaries left: Karl, Jack, Oliver, Mann, and six others. However, as soon as they disembarked, one of the six exchanged a glance with Karl before bolting in the opposite direction of the attack.

Running away because your mission is over? Karl wondered, his expression hardening.

As Karl puzzled over the runner's actions, the leader of the remaining five mercenaries approached him.

"Your name's Karl, right?" the man asked.

"Who's asking?" Karl replied, eyeing the man's scarred face and grizzled demeanor.

"Call me Brown," the older mercenary said. "We'll leave the target's protection to you. We've seen your skills. You're the best suited for the job."

"What are you talking about?" Karl frowned. "Isn't protecting the target a group effort?"

Brown shook his head. "We all know how dangerous this mission is. If we can't stop the attackers, you're the one who'll have to run with the target. We'll buy you time."

Karl glanced at Brown's team. Their expressions were calm, resolute, as if they'd already accepted their fate.

He followed Brown's gaze to the fleeing mercenary. Brown explained, "He's the youngest in our squad. If we die, he'll collect the payment on our behalf and ensure our families are taken care of."

As Brown walked past, leading his team toward the corner, he added, "We told him to come back and bury us if the mission fails. Don't mind being buried with us, do you?"

Karl's voice was somber. "I don't mind."

"Good." Brown smiled faintly. "Remember, if it gets too bad, run. You're young. Don't waste your life here."

With that, Brown and his team disappeared around the corner. Moments later, gunfire erupted.

"Good man," Mann muttered, clapping Karl on the shoulder before charging after the others.

"Guess I'm taking point," he said, true to his word when he joined the team.

Karl exhaled deeply, his expression steeled with resolve. Nothing in the world was heavier than someone's dying wish, and the weight of this one forced Karl to rise to the occasion.

When Karl, Oliver, and Jack reached the corner, chaos awaited.

Less than 20 of the original 37 Arasaka security guards remained, huddled inside a three-story convenience store. The target, the mysterious Sword of the Lake Lady, was presumably inside, but her exact location was unknown.

Two groups were advancing on the convenience store.

One was the attackers, armed with the unmistakable Shingen submachine guns.

The other was the Maelstrom gang, wielding a mix of crude but deadly weapons. Their screams and glowing red cybernetic eyes marked them as unmistakable.

"Fucking Maelstrom," Jack growled, rushing forward with his Saratoga submachine gun to join Mann in the fray.

The battlefield was a mess. The Arasaka guards had abandoned their vehicles, now trapped in the convenience store. With no cover inside and the target's location uncertain, they were sitting ducks.

"I'll stick with Mann and Jack," Oliver said. "Karl, go around to the back. If you can reach the target without being surrounded, grab her and run."

"Run?" Karl asked, hesitating.

"Run," Oliver repeated firmly. "Get her out of here. That's the only way we survive."

Without another word, Oliver charged into the chaos.

Karl knew what he had to do.

If he could secure the target and escape, the enemy would have no reason to pursue the rest of his team.

It was a gamble, but one worth taking.

Karl had taken countless lives in 2075, but saving one for the first time felt different.

And this time…

"It's worth doing."

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