Chapter 63: The Past: The Chariot (IV)

"Hey, Beros, where are you taking us?"

Rottweiler clung to the window of the Floating Car, gazing incessantly at the neon night scene flickering below.

"Hunting... a fugitive that has been on the run for over a year." Beros spoke in a low voice, his tongue pressing hard against the roof of his mouth, teeth clenched tight as if grinding out sparks.

"Besides those Kang Tao combat Robots, is there anyone who can escape from MaxTac's grasp?" Melissa asked somewhat strangely; in her experience, MaxTac had never failed a mission except for that one time.

"Hunter and prey are always relative..." Beros shook his head. "Sometimes you follow tracks on the ground like branches, thinking you are just catching a small chicken, but it might actually be a ferocious Tyrannosaurus!"

"Oh, Captain, you look like a bear trying to knit a sweater when you show off your literature!" Bit teased, his corner of the mouth twitching involuntarily.

"Both of your metaphors are terrible; you don't sound like humans. I'm going to vomit." Rottweiler, truly a heroine among women, bundled Beros and Bit together and roasted them both.

"Laugh while you can; you won't be laughing in a moment." Beros glanced at the team members playing around and said coldly.

"Wow." Rottweiler made a face at the Captain, who was wearing a cold expression.

Melissa looked at them, her fingertips tapping incessantly on the brand-new, thick armor on her body in anxiety, the rhythm as urgent as a torrential downpour.

"Say less; look at our rookie, he's so nervous he can't handle it." Bit was born with a foul mouth; even when he was rarely speaking human words, it still carried a sarcastic tone.

Melissa raised an eyebrow and simply nodded silently.

Her neck contracted tightly, unconsciously hiding her face in the crack between moonlight and shadow.

Rottweiler glanced at Melissa, sighed lightly, grabbed her hand, and transmitted steady emotions through her palm.

◎

One year ago.

January 20, 2073.

"Calm down, calm down..." Dila faced the slightly tilted rearview mirror, repeatedly giving himself psychological suggestions.

One minute ago, he had completed that lucrative job at top speed, and the joy burst from his chest like vines, tightly grasping all his brain nerves.

One minute later, he received a call from his wife; worry, anger, sorrow, grief, regret, hatred, and humiliation—almost all negative emotions humans could possess—gathered together, wanting to nail him firmly to the cross of sin.

He suddenly roared, shoved the gear into reverse with force, and stomped hard on the accelerator.

The old taxi seemed infected by its owner; the tires rubbed directly against the asphalt, generating smoke, while the outdated engine emitted a hoarse howl.

The black body, like a matte sword, was held by him and thrust forcefully into the traffic flow; those red taillights were the crimson blood splashing out.

The sounds of collisions, angry curses, horns, and brakes all together formed the wails of the victims, sounding exceptionally grating under the boundless night sky.

Even the designer of this car probably never imagined that someone could drive this pile of scrap metal at a speed surpassing top sports cars.

The black shadow whistled sharply, going upstream against the current; the prosperous and noisy seven-colored ocean of Night City could not stop his steps even a little.

Wherever his tracks went, the torrent there was brutally and completely cut off by him.

"Answer the phone! Old man! F*** it, answer the phone!"

The speed had long exceeded the limit the speedometer could record; this old beast he had secretly modified revealed the mad silhouette of a mad dragon for the first and last time today.

Madness had already occupied his brain; unless he found that missing old man, he would never stop his advancing steps.

Yes, Lao Ruifan was missing.

The moment his wife called anxiously, all ominous premonitions came true.

Senior, guide, mentor and friend, father-in-law...

What exactly did Ruifan mean to him?

Dila himself didn't know clearly; he just welded his foot to the accelerator, and together with the car, he turned into a traceless shadow, shuttling through all the streets, big and small, of the entire Night City.

The old mobile phone had been twisted and deformed by his excessive grip; he simply threw it onto the passenger seat, held the steering wheel firmly with both hands, and completely turned into a swift wind.

◎

"Gloria, lend a hand! I found a driver willing to take us to the hospital!" Male doctor Huai Te shouted loudly, calling the red-haired woman who was looking for kind drivers on other streets to come back.

"F***! Thanks, buddy!" Gloria panted heavily, ran over, and slapped the back of that kind driver—a burly man—hard.

The young assistant stood aside, bent over, panting; he had just rushed back from other streets.

The burly man seemed not to expect that the red-haired woman had such strength; the sunglasses on his face were almost slapped off by this force.

"Cough, cough, lives are at stake; put him in the car." Mann frowned, looking down at the old man lying on the stretcher.

The breath of Death was already approaching, blowing foulness right next to his ear.

"Damn! Vital signs are weakening again; hurry up and put him in the car." Gloria shouted; she had been paying attention to the instrument display beside the stretcher.

The old man's condition was deteriorating more and more; he probably wouldn't last long.

Mann nodded, lowered the rear car seat back without hesitation, and lifted the old man into the car.

The car radio was still on, but suddenly switched from energetic music to a news report.

"Good evening, Night City! Breaking news follows: roads from Downtown to Weisitebuluke and Watson are all blocked! An unprecedented traffic jam! Now the road designers of Night City are going to be dragged out and whipped after death! Reason unknown... Oh no! According to frontline reporters, it is a cyber-psycho driving a taxi with a speed exceeding 400 kilometers per hour! Yes, a taxi! Completely disrupting the entire city's traffic!"

Mann slammed the car steering wheel hard; the hospitals capable of treating this old man were all in Downtown, and now all roads were blocked...

"Give up?" Mann asked the three-person medical team in the back seat, his tone somewhat depressed; he had kindly offered help, only to have it backfire on him.

"Go..." Gloria had just uttered the first syllable when a piercing screech of brakes, accompanied by wild wind and angry thunder, stopped right in front of their car.

"Found you." A man got out of the car with convulsing limbs, stumbled over, and pressed his face against the rear window of Mann's car.

"What's going on, you..."

"He is my father... Thank you for saving him... Leave the rest to me." Dila rudely interrupted the male doctor's question, ran back to his own car, and used brute force to remove all the non-folding rear seats.

"Leave it to me..." Dila said again.

In those blue-green eyes, a gradually mad crimson was spreading.