Outrun – Cyberpunk LitRPG

Chapter 166

Chapter 166

A man stepped out of the truck, waving his hand to the Prowler as it approached. We watched as Captain Roger himself got out of the prowler. Unfortunately, the magic screen Lia made couldn’t send audio back, just the wolf’s visuals. We couldn't hear the exchange between the two. Knowing how versatile magic was though, there was probably a more advanced spell somewhere that could do both. Lia either didn’t know, or the cost was too high.

They conversed for several minutes before briefly shaking hands. Captain Roger stepped back to the Prowler, leaning against the front bumper. The Deseran Nomad waved his hand as though it were a prearranged signal.

I caught a glint out of the corner of my eye. My vision snapped to the Shortspire Tower, about thirty floors up. My shift of attention just barely caught a figure as they got up from their position, threw what I could only assume was a sniper rifle over their back, and then left their perch. 

Snipers. Never checked for them, but they were a very real concern out here. I should keep my eyes peeled. If the Deseran Family could have snipers posted, so could other Nomad groups. No telling when one might ruin my day with a bullet shot from so far away I wouldn’t even be able to see who shot. Hopefully, Insight worked on them at least. That was truly my only option other than scanning every single thing in my surroundings all the time. Even armor wasn’t foolproof considering some of the wacky rifles out there.

And the rifles weren't even the only issue. Snipers were more than willing to buy fancy bullets since they only needed one shot. I'd seen quite a few news articles of people being sniped with smart bullets that could track around corners for impossible shots. Hell, some of the blackmail material I stole from the Neo-Jokers even mentioned assassinations using some.

A small group of ragtag vehicles drove out from the mall. Each vehicle was different with its own mods and custom attachments, yet their color schemes were uniformly done to better blend in with the desert. The only standout thing about the paint was a symbol of a golden scorpion marking each of the vehicles. 

They pulled up, not quite surrounding the Captain but definitely putting some pressure as they aligned themselves with the first truck. A heavily modified sports car pulled away from the pack. It was covered in thick armor plating that looked as though they were pulled from a tank. Two HMGs sticking up out of the rear trunk, giving a full three-sixty cover. The sports car rolled to a stop just in front of the Prowler.

A tall dark skinned man stepped out of the sports car. He had on a long black duster and a military baseball cap pressed down onto his face. A pair of shades helped complete the look, as did the shotgun strapped to his back. His face had a gruff, authoritative look to it.

Immediately, Captain Roger and the Deseran Nomad started a conversation. The captain was very adamant with his nods and shakes, probably a side effect of being almost behind enemy lines with backup too far to help should they double cross. It was probably a calculated choice though to show sincerity. Or he was just that confident in surviving and the whole thing was an act to make the Nomad feel more at ease. Somehow, I could see the latter being the right option.

”What do you think they’re talking about?” Lia asked as she leaned forward to peer into the illusory screen.

”Although I’m a man of many talents, I unfortunately can’t hear from this far away.” Renold said, shrugging unapologetically. 

“Who is that anyway?”

Sergeant Hampton sighed deeply. “Did you miss the briefing entirely? Why even have ears if you don’t use them? I thought wolves were supposed to have good hearing? Does he know yours don’t work? That’s Drake Deseran, the patriarch of this particular Nomad family.”

Lia shrunk back slightly, rubbing sheepishly at her arms. “No need to be so harsh…”

“Think you can get the wolf closer?” I asked. I had a surprisingly easy time reading lips last night. Must've been a side effect of all the training in the pavilion where I had to study faces. This was a perfect opportunity to test it further.

Lia frowned, a look of concentration crossing her face as her eyebrows tensed. Then the perspective of the screen shifted slightly as if the wolf cocked its head. The screen shifted entirely, slowly panning over the rest of the Nomad cars setup. “Maybe… anyone heard if they have a competent Magus or Adept?”

”Negative.” Hampton tilted his head to the side. “I think Captain said something about Kinetics though. Course, you’d know that if you listened.”

”Pot calling the kettle black.” Lia muttered, seemingly wanting to say quite a bit more before holding herself back. The wolf moved closer, bringing the two’s faces into better view. 

“Uh-“ I dropped my voice a bit, imitating the way Captain Roger spoke. It was a bad imitation, but hopefully, it got my point across. “… glad we could come to an arrangement. You have everything ready?”

I watched the Deseran leader for a few moments, getting used to how his mouth moved before speaking in my normal voice. “Chek. Just waiting to see the goods. Athena provide everything we asked for?”

Captain Roger shrugged half-heartedly. “How would I know? I’m just the delivery guy.”

”Still…” Drake Deseran’s head dropped slightly as he looked back towards his group. “I assume the Mice have it all? I'll call over the rest of my family to take everything off your hands.” 

“Sooner the better.” Captain Roger replied. “You have our escort and guide picked out?”

”Chek.” The Nomad Patriarch waved his hand to the side. One person approached from off to the back. He looked a little like Drake. Maybe a relative? The term Nomad Families was used a lot, but usually, it was family by choice or circumstance, not family by blood. Or maybe that was just a wrong judgment on my part? “Lenny here will guide you through the area you’re looking for. About a dozen others will join you, split between six cars. Should be more than enough boom to discourage an attack with your current company. From other Nomads, at least. Been a lot of buzz around that cursed city from mercs though.”

Oh? Were we headed for a city? This was the first I’d heard of it, though it did make sense. Let's see here, if it was a city that was probably nearby considering the arrangement with the Nomads, then… my brain flashed through the dozens of old-world maps. Probably New Tress City… maybe. Or it could be Torzo, but that city was quite a bit of distance away from here. ‘Course, it could also be another town like Stuarton, but considering we were after Acumen Industrial’s Opera House, the chances were higher it was in a proper city.

”I'm impressed! You never told us you could read lips!” Lia cheered, though her cheers quieted slightly as Renold gave her a look. “Still, super cool!”

“I have many talents, most of them I’d probably never get any use out of.” I shrugged. I had a level of camaraderie-backed trust with Red-Six after the whole Dune Walker thing, but it was best I played my cards close to my chest.

Hampton twisted in his chair, looking back to meet my eyes with a rather unsettling gaze. “Did he say cursed city?”

”Um,” I thought back, recounting what I’d said. “Chek. Cursed city- ain’t that just perfect.”

”Captain didn’t say anything about curses." Sergeant Hampton bowed deeply in his chair, raising his hands over his head. “Ancestors keep me safe.”

”Chill out. Could just be a figure of speech. Like I call Aythryn City a piss pot, but that doesn’t mean it's a literal piss pot.” Lia tilted her head, likely recalling the rather high rates of public defecation. Especially among the large homeless population. “Poor example, but my point still stands.”

A cursed city, eh? Lia was right, it could just be a figure of speech. Knowing how fucked the world was though, it could also be a literal cursed city. Considering the entire Eternal Sandstorm was practically a curse upon North Arkhanika, it wouldn’t be too outlandish for this city to have a curse laid upon it too.

I focused back on the conversation between the two leaders. Unfortunately, right as I did, they split up and went their own ways. Drake Deseran started talking to his family with his back turned to the wolf while Captain Roger got back in the Prowler to drive back to us.

Over the next hour, dozens of cars and trucks came and went in a constant stream, slowly but steadily emptying crate after crate of goods from the Mice. Most of the other Prowlers were sent out to set up a perimeter, but since Red-Six was protecting an important asset—me—we had to just sit around and wait. 

I went back to reading Cold Moon Solutions' files shortly after, listening to music. Occasionally I’d catch snippets of Lia’s discussion with Renold over one thing or another, though it wasn’t anything I was super interested in joining in.

Rather, the memos from Cold Moon Solutions were incredibly entertaining in a bad comedy kind of way. There was a certain level of irony that tickled me just right. I found myself laughing more than a few times, especially when Kuzo constantly mentioned seeking to improve the team while simultaneously feeding the entire corporation's wealth into Project Methuze, which was bound to fail. 

A final call honk drew me from my phone as my attention shifted once more to my surroundings. The last of the Nomads drove off back toward the Shortspire Mall, taking with them the rest of the goods left in the Mice. Bet it was good for the fuel economy that they were empty now. A whole lot less weight for the trip to our actual location, where we’d hopefully find plenty of valuable loot to fill them once more. At least, if I understood the plan.

And then we were off into the desert once more, this time accompanied by a baker’s dozen Nomads.

— — —

We crested a dune covering the ancient roadways, the entire convoy moving slowly through the impaired visibility of a sandstorm. This was one blessedly mundane, though even with its mundane nature it was still a problem. The terrible visibility made the already long drive feel even longer, especially since the entire Convoy slowed to avoid crashing.

It’d been a day since we met up with the Nomads. A thankfully uneventful day. It’d been a long trek out here, and I was incredibly happy I wasn’t the driver. Renold had been driving almost constantly since we left the city. Poor sap. Although he kept a professional look on his face at all times, he looked rather tired this morning when we woke up.

Up ahead, the sand billowed out into a tunnel as the convoy moved through the sandstorm. And then, bursting through a last wall of wind-swept debris, we freed ourselves from the sandstorm.

The convoy stopped, spreading out on the dune as our destination came before us. A city, complete with massive superstructures reaching into the sky like the fingers of fallen behemoths, lay before us. The entire thing was covered in greenery and broken architecture. There was a certain sense of ragged brokenness to the entire place as if it were a mockery of what it used to be.

And yes, I said greenery. There were so many plants. Long vines entangled and strangled the remains of the superstructures as if to choke the last bits of life out of them. Trees sprouted from the windows, casting shade over the entire city. Hell, it even looked as though there was a carpet of moss or grass all over the ground, though I couldn't be too sure from this distance. I’d never seen so many plants in one place before.

The entire city, clothed in greens and a wash of bright flowering colors, evoked a certain… unsettled feeling for me. Maybe it was because most of my interactions with plants thus far had been rather hostile? Seeing an entire city taken over by them sent a chill down my spine that I just couldn't quite shake.

Outside of the plants, there were also the unsettling remains of ancient tech. The creepy, decrepit holograms of Stuarton paled in comparison to what remained of New Tress City. There were only a few of them back there, but here? Hundreds if not thousands of glitched-out holograms twitched around all over the place, most held in by vines.

When was this city abandoned again? It should’ve been back around the twenty-forties somewhere. Holograms would’ve just become mainstream back then, and I could tell by looking around. Nowadays neon and holograms had taken over, but here? Little neon compared to the massive amount of broke holograms.

This place was once one of Acumen Industrial’s stronghold cities before they went under. At a glance, I couldn’t see any buildings of the Big 7. That isn’t to say that there weren’t any presents though. There were probably subsidiaries all over the place. Especially during the corporate cold war that’d been going on over the decades before Acumen Industrial went under.

”So that’s it, eh?” Lia looked out at the city in silence for a few moments. “Doesn't look like much? What do you think this curse Drake Deseran mentioned is?” 

“No clue. Could be anything. Or nothing.” Renold shrugged. “Lots of plants around here though. And look at all the holograms. The infrastructure is still running... I doubt the old tech is still working either. Might be a faction prevalent here.”

I forced my eyes away from the plants as I tuned back into their conversation. They were probably just mundane, normal plants that wouldn’t try and kill me. It was just paranoia that made my spine tingle with anxiety. “What’s the plan now?”

“Find our coordinates, set up a firebase, and then get to looting, probably.” Hampton shrugged. “No telling though. If there is a curse here, which there isn’t, Captain will want to take it slow. And there were those mercs the Deseran Patriarch mentioned to think about too.” 

Right. Mercs. Made me think there were quite a few goodies still in this city to draw mercs. Where there’s money and loot, there are mercs after all. Even in the most inhospitable of places like the Cwalu continent, they could be found. Hopefully, we won’t run into too many of them.

Then again, my luck never had held up well since I got the interface. Probably used my entire lifetime of luck in that one incident.

The radio crackled to life as Captain Roger’s voice came through. It was slightly distorted, though clear enough to make out. “All squad leaders, meet me in the back of Gold-1. There’ve been some developments brought about by our Nomad chooms. There’s been a change of plans.”