Interdimensional Scientist, Starting from Cyberpunk Chapter 343: Iron Beetle and the Crew-Cut

[Sergeant Morton: Rember that bastard Will Gunner? You took him out, and I went to clean up the idiots trying to follow him. A few managed to slip away.]

[They found a bunch of rcs from who-knows-where—tough ones. While my guys were out collecting protection fees, they ambushed us. Killed over a dozen of my n.]

[And that's not all. There are two warehouses—one on Martin Luther King Avenue and another on Brandon Street. One is mine, the other belongs to so company.]

[They're both under our protection!]

[If we don't take out these little bastards, we're done for. They're robbing people under the na of the Sixth Street Gang! Saying protection fees should go to them from now on—what a joke!]

[I'm here right now. Goddammit, get your asses over here—I can't hold them off much longer!]

[Location: Dewdrop Inn (Martin Luther King Avenue)]

"So what do they an by 'working for themselves'?"

Inside the car, Jackie was strapping on his combat gloves. An automated arm extended from the backseat to connect the gear to his cybernetic system.

The car, controlled by Little Octopus, cruised smoothly. Leo continued adjusting his gear—

In a world that runs on equipnt, checking your gear before a mission is just good practice.

"Petrochem wants to move into Night City. Nobody wants that, but no one wants another corpo war either.

Petrochem is in the wrong here, so they let a bunch of rcs in.

No corpo war, sure—but a gang war? That's still on the table.

They use violence to control the city's lower rungs, pushing their own rules, their own gear. That's their way of establishing a foothold.

But don't forget, the Sixth Street Gang has already been trained by us. They know our rules. These outsiders? Not so much."

As much as Leo didn't like to admit it, every large-scale organization has reasons behind its birth and growth.

A gang might get wiped out, but the niche it fills will always spawn another gang.

Night City's many gangs had already crossed paths with Leo. Their limbs had been severed more than once. Right now, they were at their weakest—and ripe for the rcs to crush.

If they got crushed, Leo would have to rebuild them again—

No matter how you look at it, that's a bad deal. Just handling the Maelstrom Gang cost them millions of eddies in damages.

The Sixth Street Gang had already toned down a lot: their n had been killed, their supplies cut off, and business shriveled. If they wanted to grow again, they had to pick up their old banners and trick a new wave of suckers into joining.

V cocked her pistol and sumd it up:

"Put simply, if he listens to us, we help him. That's it."

"Exactly."

"But I have a question: when you were talking to Rogue earlier, why were you two acting all mysterious?"

"Well—" Leo was just about to answer when—

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion erupted ahead!

The Dewdrop Inn was a three-story building, classic L-shaped layout. The entrance jutted forward, with a parking lot beside it.

Right above the motel was a giant oil pipeline.

And across the street? An oil refinery!

The explosion had hit the pipeline. A grenade had landed on it—

Luckily, it only dented the pipe a bit and didn't rupture it!

The Sixth Street Gang had blocked both ends of the road. So cars were already on fire. Bodies, blood, and shell casings were scattered everywhere.

These gangsters were clearly more geared up than your average street punks. Full tactical vests, clean new guns.

"Stop! Stop! Goddammit!"

The sergeant was ducked behind a barricade, furious:

Those lunatics inside were shooting like maniacs!

The refinery belonged to Petrochem. If they accidentally blew that pipeline, they'd owe Petrochem a fortune—

And if the whole plant went up? It wouldn't even be up to Petrochem to deal with them. The entire street would be vaporized!

Furious, the sergeant ordered a ceasefire. His n obeyed instantly, like real soldiers.

Too bad real soldiers don't fight under a gang's flag.

From a motel window, a rigged-up TV extended on a pole. No image, just loud audio:

"Stop wasting your damn bullets! Clear the way or I'll blow that pipe sky-high!"

It was like a hostage situation now, with the guy inside screaming threats.

Except the "hostage" wasn't a person.

It was Petrochem's good temper.

"This is kind of hilarious," V muttered, looking at the motel. "What's the move?"

In his head, Leo received a structural diagram of the Dewdrop Inn from the sergeant—

The three-story motel had a balcony in the back, accessible to the second floor.

"Rember that ti at Rama Arms?"

V and Jackie understood imdiately.

"You and Jackie go in from the front, and I'll sneak in from the back?"

"This ti, let's change things up. They've shut down the motel's local network, so hacking's useless. We need to drive them into the rooms first—keeps the oil pipeline safe."

The car pulled over about 700–800 ters from the battlefield.

Leo got out. A chanical arm at his waist opened one of the boxes, revealing parts of the Nekomata sniper rifle. He started assembling it right on the driver's seat.

Then, from beneath the seat—specifically, from a drawer-like external storage compartnt under the car—he pulled out a black briefcase.

But it wasn't a real briefcase.

He pressed a black button on the side, and the four corners slowly unfolded, revealing tiny turbofan engines. Two winglets extended from the lower central body.

The fans kicked in, and the little thing lifted off into the air.

"Damn, another one of your fancy gadgets?"

Jackie watched the drone rise into the air, feeling like it looked familiar.

He activated his scanner and pulled basic data from the OCT net:

[Na: Iron Beetle Drone]

[Manufacturer: Aldecaldo]

[Description: With 'friendly sponsorship' from a certain military tech official, the newly ford Aldecaldo workshop created this lightweight drone based on the Pteranodon UAV, optimized with unique software.

Small enough to carry by hand when folded, looks like a toolbox.]

[Main Components: High-efficiency turbofan, special graphene battery, 5.7mm smart SMG system]

Its design was inspired by the Pteranodon, but the fans, battery, and firearm modules were manufactured in Redshirt Base's cross-dinsional factories. The control systems were provided by Leo, and the ammunition and weaponry ca from a small shop in Chesson.

Both worlds were slowly standardizing this kind of weapon. Leo was running a field test.

That was the aerial drone. Leo also pulled out another case—this one contained Crew-Cut.

Iron Beetle would handle overwatch, while Crew-Cut used its optical camouflage system to scout inside.

One drone in the air, one on the ground—both quickly deployed around the building. Interior personnel data was soon projected onto the 3D map in Leo's mind.

The assault route beca clear. As Leo uploaded the plan to the others, he explained:

"I'll provide sniper support. You two breach from the back wall—move fast."

Halfway through speaking, he realized the other two were staring at him.

Leo raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You..." V pointed at the Nekomata, then at Leo—already mounting it at the window. "Sniper support? Should we maybe find soone else?"

Leo shook his head, deadpan. "Get into position. Stop questioning the plan!"

The two vanguards exchanged a worried glance. V suddenly slapped her forehead:

"Oh—I get it. You just wanted to touch the rifle because we're too badass. Doesn't even matter if there's sniper support or not!"

Leo gave her a disapproving look. She laughed and ran toward the motel.

Sniper rifle in hand, Leo moved toward a nearby building.

Honestly, V wasn't wrong—sniper support wasn't strictly necessary this ti.

He just wanted to test whether Little Octopus could directly replicate V's combat skill.

The chanical limbs began climbing the wall. Leo prepared himself.