Chapter 512 - 483: Convertible

ACPA armor, this kind of equipment hadn’t appeared in cities for a very long time, even in Night City.

There were two reasons for this. First, after the collapse of the old net, companies lost a lot of technology. They had recovered quite a bit over the past fifty years, but due to constant wars and mutual distrust, the recovery speed was far slower than expected.

Second, APCA was battlefield equipment. In this era, it was even elite battlefield equipment, not something that would usually appear outside of frontline combat scenarios.

NCPD’s introduction of Centaur Mechas was a significant positive signal from Military Technology: they had begun to attempt to introduce Centaur Mechas into the police market, these mechas being based on γ-level linear frame exoskeletons.

It was also proven that when such a beast of vitality appeared in urban terrain, paired with a group of infantry interfering from the shadows, the power was immense.

All along the way, Valentino had actually been somewhat intimidated.

Even though Father had baptized and prayed for them before this deathmatch began, in Night City...

Maybe Valentino stood their ground with faith and ethnic ties, but after so many years, how many truly devout believers remained in this behemoth?

Most gang members were uneducated and ignorant kids. Maybe when Father offered them a piece of bread and a safe place to sleep, they felt touched, but as they grew older...

Who didn’t like fancy cars and beautiful women? Who didn’t like money?

Who didn’t want to be the most badass person, to vent all the humiliations they suffered on something and call it "justice"?

But that kind of thing only appeared in stories, like the Bible stories.

This scene was exactly like David striking the giant Goliath on the forehead with a sling, then drawing Goliath’s sword to behead him.

By the tall building next to Haywood Church, Father stood on the rooftop, wearing a high-end helmet and observing through Valentino’s equipment, monitoring the battlefield.

The pressure from Valentino suddenly intensified. In fact, not just the young men, even Father himself felt somewhat excited:

Belief in Catholicism and studying its doctrines was his way of uniting the ethnic group. By giving people prominent labels and deepening their recognition of those labels, he could create connections beyond money and interests.

This was the fundamental reason they stood firm in Night City.

Six Street Gang’s cohesion was their neighborhood ties, but they were all poor. Hence, they could only be a gang for the poor; Valentino’s connections were stronger, so they could penetrate higher levels, such as NCPD and municipal institutions.

However, since he had seen so many people, those connections had naturally weakened too.

But this time was different; the story had really been reenacted!

The Centaur Mecha was almost a whole size larger than Jack, and its main gun was visibly powerful. The oversized "car-slicing sword" was utterly intimidating by itself—

In this comparison, Jack was genuinely David slaying Goliath!

Had a deceiving story become true?

In this situation, Father began to convince himself.

"...Ve con Dios (Go with God.)"

...

Bang!

A truck with half its body already missing violently charged out, smashing the hopeful Midnight Death who was about to pounce on Jack.

This collision hit precisely on the explosive worn by Midnight Death. The bomb went off with a fart-like pop, with power far short of its theoretical value, injuring barely anyone but burning away his lower body.

Valentino’s Acido urgently placed a fellow gang friend from the passenger seat by the roadside, crossed himself, then rushed to the stunned young man, putting him in the passenger seat.

This young man hadn’t yet recovered from his death-seeking but failed reality, and a rifle was placed in his hand.

Seeing no reaction, Acido slapped his face:

"Wake up, brother! It’s not over yet!"

"Uh... huh? What kind of gun is this?" Valentino gang member stared blankly at the Achilles in his hand; he had never used something so good in his life.

"Six Street Gang’s sponsorship, everyone has one but you."

Why didn’t he have one? Because this young man never believed in Father’s god nonsense. At most, he recited a line or two to fit in.

Thus, when Father handed out equipment, he wasn’t at the church at all.

But this time... he scratched his head and looked out the window:

That legendary Mackinaw had already driven far off.

Jack stood atop the Centaur Mecha, running forward with the Mecha’s power system, gripping the sword in the Mecha like a control stick.

"So... so badass."

"Definitely badass, hold on—"

Boom—

The Mackinaw’s power system, though only half its body left, was still intact. Without its body, it had become even faster!

The sense of acceleration pressure his broken back, a bit of stinging pain. The wind in his face exhilarated him:

"I’m riding a convertible!"

"Yes, a convertible!" Acido laughed, seeing the young man snap back, "A convertible sports car! Wuhu!"

The road ahead of the two cars was filled with parts and wreckage crushed by the legendary Mackinaw. Occasionally, they fired shots at enemies on the ground, incidentally pulling up surviving gang members, handing them guns.

The vehicle had not traveled far before it exploded, with the gang emerging from the wreckage to then commandeer another not fully scrapped car.

The earlier Midnight Death, who survived the incomplete bomb explosion, was leaning against a wall, watching this scene with gritted teeth:

Why did they look so happy?

Why were these social scumbags disturbing society so joyful?

Why was it that despite his earnest studying and work, he ended up like this?

What was the meaning of living?

Having long lost the will to live, he received an anonymous email through the local network scattered across Night City, inviting him to a grand death.

And the result?

The result was that the stage continued, as he lay unnoticed in the rubble, like his life, in society’s most unnoticed places. No one cared about him, and no one understood him.

Just thinking about this, a string of thoughts flashed through his mind: It was all because of his poor original family, which he had spent his life trying to leave behind; It was all because of society’s constant mutual attacks, unfriendly; It was all because the company didn’t give him time off or raises, causing him to suffer from a mental illness...

Thinking this, he started crying.

Then in the darkness, he heard a rustling noise.

He immediately stopped thinking, staring in the direction of the sound.

He saw a hunched figure, a girl with not-so-good looks approaching—

This was his roommate; he recognized her. She was the colleague they often sat together with to complain about the company, yet he privately thought she was ugly as hell.

This girl tiptoed through the debris and flames, evidently terrified...

Scared but still coming?

"Iva?" The girl saw his face and instantly sighed in relief, quickening her steps over the debris, "Great, I saw you being blown away by the explosion..."

Blown away by an explosion? He had jumped out himself!

For some reason, he suddenly got anxious:

"What are you doing here!"

"What do you think? Of course, I’m here to save your stupid ass! We’re the only ones who haven’t quit the company since we joined, can’t let you fall to your death, can I?"

As the girl approached, her almost grotesque face became clear in the dim flames.

Men certainly didn’t like someone this ugly; they liked those flirtatious women in the videos.

But as he saw the expression on his female colleague’s face, that look of fear mixed with the determination to find him despite it, like finding a treasure...

He suddenly felt that ugliness could be fixed; they could still make money anyway.

Could she possibly like him?

"Haha, I saved your life this time, you owe me one, remember that forever..."

Whoosh—

The woman finally reached him, but regrettably, the answer to his question was something he would never know.

The "dud" imprinted with Midnight Death suddenly ignited again, burning so quickly...

It finally became barely a bomb.

Boom!

In a silent corner, yet another Midnight Death gang member completed their mission—in Midnight Death, turning into nothingness.

Two broken bodies burned within the wreckage.

Midnight Death would soon vanish into oblivion like their predecessors, but Valentino would continue to exist—

At least for now, their voices still mixed with the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and engines:

"Convertible sports car!"

"Be the boss!"