May 8, 2021. 01:08. Rome.
"FUCK!" The word tears itself out of my throat.
Another burst of suppressed fire chews apart the marble column beside me.
The room has completely fallen apart, and I can't even fully tell what's happening anymore.
Someone screams somewhere in the distance, and I drop another body with a few precise shots in the meantime.
Then my pistol snaps toward another silhouette rushing Rafael from the left.
Two shots are all I need.
The first misses as the assassin throws himself sideways into cover, but the second catches him high in the shoulder, spinning him just enough for Rafael to close the remaining distance.
"Bastardo!"
His massive fist crashes into the man's face with an impact that sounds less like a punch and more like a car accident.
The assassin's body folds around the blow before crashing through a nearby table in a shower of shattered glass.
I don't even wait to see if he's alive.
More unknown assailants come rushing through the entrance to the room.
A woman pretending to be one of the Camorra's security raises a compact SMG toward Dante.
One shot from me and she stumbles.
A second bullet drops her before she can fire a single round.
I check my rounds, only to find my pistol empty.
Damn it.
"LEFT!" Tetra shouts from somewhere behind me.
I pivot immediately, twisting myself behind cover.
Another conspirator bursts from behind one of the overturned tables.
Tetra reaches him first.
Rather than drawing a weapon, he drives forward shoulder-first into the man's ribs, lifting him off his feet before slamming him into the floor hard enough that both disappear beneath splintered furniture.
A pistol skids across the marble.
Tetra kicks it toward me.
I catch it instinctively, switching weapons before firing past him at another attacker trying to flank us.
Beyond us, the entire room flashes white from constant muzzle fire while smoke already hangs beneath the ceiling.
The succession ceremony is gone.
It's devolved into a firefight, with the underbosses either behind cover or returning fire with concealed pistols, cyberware, or whatever weapons they managed to grab, while security teams rush in either to help... or to join the assassination.
Nobody knows who's loyal or who's compromised, which is extremely impressive considering the number of people involved.
Every unfamiliar face has suddenly become a threat, and the security guards I can personally vouch for are few in number now.
"Protect Dante!"
"The Don!"
"Watch your six!"
Italian and English blur together beneath the constant gunfire.
I risk another glance toward Dante.
He's crouched beside the Don behind one of the reinforced blast barriers, pistol out, the railgun now abandoned on the firing platform.
Still alive, good. Thank fuck.
He returns fire with controlled precision at nearby assassins while I reload.
Thankfully, he's doing just fine for now, which means I don't have to babysit him.
Across my peripheral vision, a blur suddenly cuts through the room.
Holy shit.
What is THAT?
My pistol immediately tracks toward it.
"What the—"
The blur grabs a fallen rifle before I can even process what I'm seeing.
Then it slows just enough for my eyes to finally catch up.
Remi.
"No fucking way..." I mutter.
He comes sliding across the polished floor like this is the greatest day of his life.
"I FUCKIN' LOVE THIS THING!" His voice echoes through the hall as he moves so fast I can barely track him anymore. "THE SANDEVISTAN IS THE SICKEST SHIT EVER!"
His laugh borders on manic as time itself seems to stretch around him in a way I don't even know how to describe.
He snatches an assault rifle from a dead assassin before spinning behind cover.
"So THIS is what y'all implanted chooms have been feeling this whole time?!" He leans around a shattered pillar. "THIS SHIT IS GASSSSSS! FUCK THE DOCTORS, I SHOULD'VE USED THIS SOONER!"
The rifle barks out three controlled bursts, dropping two attackers and immediately forcing another to duck behind cover.
The third barely makes it halfway across the room before Tetra finishes him off.
"...Remi?" I blink.
He grins back at me.
"WHAT?!" Another burst. "I'M CONTRIBUTING!"
"You're enjoying this way too much!" I shout from behind cover.
"I KNOW!" He ducks another stream of incoming rounds. "This chrome's fucking AWESOME!"
Despite every instinct telling me to yell at him, I can't find it in myself to do so.
He's actually helping.
And his accuracy—whether it's because of the Sandevistan or not, I honestly can't tell—is actually turning the tide of the battle.
Between all of us, nobody reaches Dante or the Don.
If I somehow miss, Tetra catches the stragglers.
If we both miss, Rafael and the remnants of his security team put them down before they get too close.
And if all three of us somehow miss, Remi appears out of nowhere like a literal lightning bolt, firing multiple rounds to finish the job.
The entire demonstration hall becomes an ugly mixture of gunfire, hand-to-hand fighting, and the kind of improvised violence that only happens once plans completely collapse.
One assassin swings at Rafael, but the man catches the blade before headbutting him hard enough to break his nose.
Another security guard fires point-blank beneath an overturned table at Tetra and me.
Someone else tackles an attacker straight through a display case.
I fire at another conspirator mid-lunge toward Dante, only to realize I've emptied another magazine.
"...Shit."
The assassin notices immediately, raising his weapon toward me.
A rifle cracks from somewhere behind me.
His chest erupts into a bloody volcano before he collapses onto the floor.
Remi pumps a fist behind me.
"LET'S GOOOO!"
"...Thanks."
"I GOTCHU, CHOOM!"
He slams another magazine into his rifle.
I don't question it.
Instead, I eject my own magazine, slam another one home, and immediately return fire at another group of assassins trying to push into the room.
It takes us a while, but the Camorra slowly begins recovering.
The first minute belonged entirely to the assassins, but over the next two, the momentum finally starts swinging back as legitimate security identifies who belongs and who doesn't.
The surviving underbosses regroup, coordinating trusted soldiers to halt the assassins' advance before slowly pushing them back into the adjoining hallways, forcing whoever remains to either retreat or surrender.
Finally...
A brief moment of peace replaces the constant gunfire.
I glance toward Dante again.
Still alive. "Thank... fuck."
The assassination attempt has failed.
Even though I can still hear fighting raging outside the demonstration hall.
I don't fool myself into thinking this is over.
Not even close. But at least we get a few seconds to breathe.
Somewhere beyond the walls, explosions continue shaking the building while automatic fire rattles through the gala. From the public section, terrified screams echo through the corridors.
I quickly look around the room.
Tetra. Remi. Rafael. The surviving underbosses.
"We good?" I call out.
"Yep!" Tetra nods.
"Still fired up!" Remi grins, still riding the adrenaline high.
Rafael simply gives me a thumbs-up before turning back toward his remaining soldiers.
Dante takes one look around the room before raising his voice.
"Preparatevi! Il combattimento non è finito! Radunate i feriti, ricaricate le armi e preparatevi a uscire!"
He pauses before repeating himself in English.
"Get ready. The fighting isn't over yet. Regroup, reload, and prepare to move outside."
Nobody argues.
Everyone immediately begins checking magazines, grabbing fresh weapons from the fallen, or tending to the wounded.
Dante walks over to the firing platform and retrieves the railgun.
Without another word, he carefully lowers it back into its reinforced suitcase before locking it shut.
Beside him, the Don slowly exhales.
"I had hoped tonight would've gone more smoothly." His eyes drift across the destruction. "Though perhaps I should've expected otherwise."
Dante meets his gaze. "I'll handle the fallout."
The Don studies him for a long moment before giving a single nod. "I know you will."
With that, Rafael motions toward the exit, the remaining security forming up around the Don while the rest of us fall in behind them.
The moment we step into the corridor, any illusion that the fighting is over disappears.
Bodies litter the marble floor as smoke hangs in the air, bullet holes scar the walls, and shattered glass crunches beneath every step.
More people are still fighting throughout the adjoining corridors. Some are legitimate Camorra security trying to reinforce our position, while others immediately open fire the second they see us.
At this point, I can barely tell the difference until somebody points a weapon in the wrong direction.
I kneel beside a fallen guard, quickly slinging his assault rifle over my shoulder before checking the magazine.
Full enough. That'll do.
An attacker rushes the corner.
I shoulder the rifle and drop him with two shots to the chest before ducking beneath a burst of automatic fire.
Another group pours through the doorway.
Then another.
"HOW THE FUCK ARE THERE SO MANY?!" I shout.
Nobody answers.
Probably because nobody has one.
Tetra throws himself behind the same section of cover as me while Remi slides across the polished floor nearby, barely avoiding a stream of rounds that chips apart the wall behind him.
"Choom, I think the whole damn family got invited!" Remi yells.
"This isn't the time!" Tetra shouts back.
"When is it ever the time?!"
Before he can answer, a scream cuts through the gunfire.
Not quite like fear, but something rooted in deep pain.
My eyes dart over, locking onto one of the implanted Camorra soldiers near the far wall as he suddenly stiffens.
His weapon slips from his hands.
For a second, he just stands there, trembling violently.
Then his head snaps toward the man beside him.
He attacks without warning.
The first punch caves in the other soldier's jaw.
Before anyone can react, he tackles him to the floor and starts hammering his face with both fists.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!"
I back off immediately, almost crashing into Tetra.
"What?" Tetra catches me with one arm while pivoting, his other already raised and ready for anything.
Another scream erupts from somewhere else.
Then another.
Across the room, a guard convulses before opening fire into a cluster of guests and security personnel alike.
There's no target selection. No hesitation. Just pure, random violence.
A woman rips off her blazer, revealing a pair of cybernetic arms before clawing at her own face and lunging at the nearest person.
Another implanted man repeatedly slams his head against a reinforced barrier before turning and charging one of the underbosses.
My stomach drops. FUCK.
"Implants!" I shout. "Something's hitting the implants!"
The realization spreads far too slowly through the mafia.
People are still trying to understand the ambush when several of their own allies suddenly begin attacking them.
The room loses what little structure it had left.
All of us are separated.
Remi and Tetra end up alongside some of the other underbosses while I stay with Dante—not by choice, but by his direct orders despite the obvious safety concerns.
Security personnel turn their weapons away from the assassins to restrain their own men.
Underbosses shout conflicting orders.
Some demand the affected soldiers be subdued.
Others order them killed.
Nobody knows what's happening.
Then one of the underbosses I recognize—Elena DiMartino.
She screams, forcing my attention to snap towards her.
Only seconds ago, she'd been crouched behind cover with several of her people, pistol drawn while ordering security to reinforce the IT team.
Now her entire body convulses.
Her back arches so violently that I hear something crack beneath her clothes.
One of her lieutenants reaches toward her.
"Elena?"
She turns on him instantly.
Her hand clamps around his throat in a death grip.
Before he can react, she lifts him off the ground and drives him into the edge of a table hard enough to fold him over it.
The others freeze.
"Boss?"
"Elena, stop!"
She doesn't.
Her eyes flicker uncontrollably, darting around like a cornered animal while her breathing turns ragged and mechanical.
Then she draws her pistol, firing directly into one of her own men.
A round catches him square in the chest.
He drops backward.
Panic erupts among the Camorra leadership.
"Disarm her!"
"What happened?!"
"Get away from her!"
One of the most powerful underbosses in the Neapolitan Camorra—and Dante's biggest rival—has just started murdering her own people in the middle of the succession ceremony.
To everyone else, it probably looks obvious.
Cyberpsychosis.
An underboss finally snapping after years of implants and pressure.
But this? This fast? This severe?
That's impossible.
Not unless you've seen it before, like in Vancouver.
Fucking Elias and his wackass anti-capitalism rant.
Memories of the twisted faces of those kids flash through my head.
That damned virus.
Who the fuck could've possibly used it?
My grip tightens around my rifle.
Don't fucking tell me...
Elena fires again, forcing two of her own guards behind cover before charging them with a speed that shouldn't be possible in formal heels.
One of the men hesitates.
Big fucking mistake.
She slams into him and drives him through a chair before immediately turning toward the next closest person without even recognizing who he is.
Down the hall, I can still hear assassins firing into other guards.
Outside, the Cosa Nostra are still attacking.
And now implanted members of the Camorra are going berserk throughout the room.
Beside me, Rafael charges straight toward Elena despite three men already lying motionless around her.
"Elena!" he yells.
She answers by grabbing one of the overturned tables and hurling it at him.
The reinforced table slams into Rafael hard enough to force him back a step, but before he can recover, she's already on him, moving faster than anyone expects.
Her cybernetics scream as she drives both hands into Rafael's chest, forcing the massive man backward across the marble floor.
"What the—"
One hand reaches for Rafael's throat. The other drives toward his chest.
Rafael barely catches her wrist.
Muscles strain against the whine of her cybernetics.
Even he starts losing ground.
"Get... off..." Rafael growls.
Elena simply screams.
Not words, but with something gutuarl raw static mixed with human pain.
She tears one arm free.
Her hand shoots toward Rafael's face.
I already know he'll be too slow.
It's an awkward, horrible angle that's far too close for comfort.
But there's no choice. Rafael's head is less than a foot away from hers.
I drop to one knee, lining up the shot.
One miss kills the wrong person.
"Come on..." I steady my breathing.
Time slows as my rifle bucks once.
A round slices through the side of Elena's head—not a direct hit, but enough to tear flesh away from the embedded cyberware.
She jerks sideways, still alive but distracted long enough for Rafael to make his move. He whips out his pistol, pressing it toward her forehead.
"Mi dispiace."
One shot rings out, and Elena collapses onto the marble floor, dead.
She doesn't move again.
For several seconds, nobody else does either.
Then the next few minutes become a blur.
Outside, the Cosa Nostra assault begins collapsing beneath the combined response of the Camorra's remaining security forces and the local police, whose arrival is broadcast over the security comms.
Inside, several surviving attackers throw down their weapons.
Some attempt to flee, but most don't even make it that far before being intercepted.
The demonstration hall slowly empties as civilians, politicians, business leaders, and family members are rushed toward evacuation routes beneath heavy security escort.
People cry. Others scream. Some simply stand frozen, unable to process what just happened.
Despite the blood running down his collar and what I'd assume is a ridiculous amount of fatigue for someone who's still somehow entirely human, Rafael immediately takes charge.
"Lock the perimeter!"
"Nobody leaves without clearance!"
"Get medics in here!"
Just who the fuck is this guy?
His remaining loyal guards move quickly.
One group secures the Don.
Another separates prisoners from the wounded.
A third starts clearing bodies.
I finally get a chance to breathe.
Leaning against one of the hallway columns, I pull out my phone and open the group chat.
"Everyone okay?"
Tetra replies almost immediately.
"Yeah! I got split from you, but Remi and I are together."
A few seconds later, Mister joins in.
"The outside assault has failed. The Cosa Nostra are retreating. Is Dante alive?"
"He is." I quickly type back.
Fuck… it almost feels like the worst has finally passed.
Almost.
Then I remember Elena DiMartino lying dead in the middle of the room.
What was she again? Underboss of weapons and international contacts?
Shit… that was pretty close to Dante's role.
And now she's been fucking zeroed.
The same realization spreads through the surviving leadership like a shockwave.
"...Elena..."
"...Madonna..."
"...How?"
Nobody has an answer. At best, only theories begin circulating.
Sadly, they quickly become accusations.
"You planned this!" one of the surviving underbosses points directly at Dante. "Convenient that one of your rivals dies tonight."
And there it fucking is.
Another immediately joins in. "This benefits you more than anyone!"
Dante doesn't even flinch. "I was being shot at beside the Don when she lost control."
Multiple voices immediately back him up.
"I saw it."
"So did I."
"She attacked her own people first."
"Rafael had no choice."
The accusations continue going back and forth.
Some lose momentum while others clearly still don't trust Dante.
"Okay, but what happened to security? Why were we compromised?"
"How did the Cosa Nostra get this close to the gala without anyone noticing?"
"Who let this happen?"
"Find the Don!"
"Where's medical?!"
"Somebody explain this!"
Nobody can, dumbass. Not yet, anyways.
The room remains loud, with dozens of voices shouting over one another, either trying to re-establish control or pointing fingers at whoever they suspect.
For fuck's sake.
I double-check that Dante's alright, at least physically. Saving him from mafia politics isn't what any of us are getting paid for, but things are stabilizing.
Slowly but surely, security confirms the Don and the remaining underbosses are safe.
Remi and Tetra let me know they're making their way back while Shock and Mister continue monitoring the main entrance.
Hell, I don't even know how, but I spot Wissen, still calm and composed as he quietly analyzes the situation.
When our eyes meet, he simply gives me a small nod.
A small smile and a nod are all he gives before silently mouthing,
"Do your job. I'm fine."
Fine.
I still don't know what kind of experience or training he's had to stay this calm under pressure, but I'm not about to question it right now.
Orders continue passing through the room one at a time while we edgerunners regroup.
Staff do their best to make sure nobody has been left behind, injured, or dead.
By this point, Tetra and Remi finally make it back to me.
Remi immediately fires finger guns. "AIGHTTT, so did we fucking save the day or did we save the day?"
I roll my eyes. "Relax, jackass. You got to play superhero today. I'll give you that."
"Imagine what I could do with even more of this shit on me," he says with the kind of confidence that only comes from a massive adrenaline high.
"Okay, tone it down just a bit," Tetra laughs.
I stop paying attention to the conversation.
A loud, heavy rumble rolls across the sky above the building.
Remi starts to ask something before pausing, looking upward.
A second later, Tetra does the same.
They've noticed it too.
"GET DOWN—" Tetra grabs Remi and shoves him to the floor.
Then the entire building shakes.
A deafening explosion tears through the gala somewhere outside the demonstration hall.
The floor lurches beneath my feet. "What the—"
An explosion rips through the building, hurling everyone off balance as glass bursts inward through the windows.
Chandeliers swing violently overhead before several lights burst outright, showering the marble floor with glittering shards.
Cracks race across one of the reinforced walls.
People scream all over again.
Anyone who hadn't already fled finally breaks.
Guests without weapons scatter toward whatever exit still looks usable.
"What happened now?!"
"Another attack!"
"Move!"
Dust rolls through the room.
For one brief moment, nobody knows what just happened until a second explosion follows, this one much closer.
A shockwave slams into the building hard enough that part of the ceiling collapses near one of the entrances.
Several smaller explosions follow almost immediately after.
The lights flicker, die, and then return.
Half the room disappears beneath emergency lighting.
"...No..." I mutter.
My eyes immediately begin searching for the source.
Car bomb? Demolition charges? What the fuck was that?
Mister and Shock literally just said the Cosa Nostra were retreating.
Behind me, Tetra slowly lowers his pistol. "...Artemis?"
"I don't know." I look back at everyone. Even Dante looks genuinely confused. "What in the world..."
Rafael wipes blood from his shoulder while barking another order to his remaining men. "Secure the entrances!"
Before anyone can move, Wissen speaks from somewhere behind us.
"I was wondering when they would show up."
He stands near the rear of the room with his hands tucked behind his back.
Unlike everyone else, he doesn't look surprised, not even a little. If anything, he almost looks disappointed that it took this long.
My stomach sinks. "The fuck? What do you mean, 'show up'?"
Wissen doesn't answer.
Instead, his eyes drift toward the blown-open wall.
Around us, panicked voices flood the security comms before Shock's comes through, garbled and distorted.
"NO!" She slams something against a desk. "The network's fully wrecked! Security, I repeat, the network is down!"
I haven't really responded over the security comms unless it was absolutely necessary.
And now, this is definitely one of those times.
"Shock, what? What do you mean—"
"Artie, they're gone. Cameras. Internal routing. Security authentication." Shock exhales sharply. "The whole damn system just collapsed while I was trying to bring it back online."
Around us, the remaining Camorra security forces begin regrouping manually.
Rafael immediately starts barking out orders to reinforce the perimeter and identify the source of the explosions.
Shock lets out a defeated sigh.
"There's nothing left to fix. The whole system is fucked."
Then I hear them.
Heavy, disciplined footsteps marching rhythmically through the hallway, headed straight toward us.
The smoke hanging in the corridor begins to shift.
Dark silhouettes emerge.
Dozens of them, all wearing matching armour with full-face masks, heavy ballistic plating, and military-grade equipment. They don't wear gang colours, Camorra insignias, or anything resembling the Cosa Nostra.
Professionals.
Who the fuck?!
The first rifle comes up. Then another. Then twenty more.
Gunfire erupts throughout the room once again.
High-calibre rifle fire tears through the remaining defenders before anyone fully processes what's happening.
The first volley alone drops several Camorra guards.
"They're hitting security!" someone screams.
"They're ignoring everyone else!"
"No!"
Another burst tears through the room.
Bodies collapse.
Tables explode into splinters.
The newcomers don't shout. In fact, they barely communicate at all. They move with the coordination of people who've rehearsed this operation countless times before.
One of them raises what looks suspiciously like a designated marksman rifle.
The shot cracks louder than every other weapon in the room.
Rafael barely has time to turn before two heavy rounds punch through his shoulder and upper torso, shredding muscle and bone.
Blood erupts from the wound as the force of the impacts finally knocks the giant off his feet.
He crashes down onto one knee before catching himself against a broken pillar.
It's a miracle he's still conscious.
His left arm hangs limp at his side.
"Rafael!" Dante shouts. "Porca puttana!"
Only then does Wissen quietly finish his thought behind me.
"That would be the Neo-Tanwir finally arriving."
The name hangs in the air like a death sentence.
I stare at the advancing soldiers. Then at the bodies. Then back toward the exposed wall.
Overhead, part of the ceiling gives way as even more Neo-Tanwir soldiers rappel into the building using stolen corporate military gear.
Drones fly overhead.
Powered armour pushes through the breach.
Somewhere outside, I can hear the unmistakable sound of a helicopter circling the venue.
I immediately rush for cover and check my firearms.
Because of course the night somehow wasn't over yet.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"