Knock Knock...

[Location undisclosed...]

For as swanky as a nondescript hotel in the heart of the City Center could be, the physical security presence on the upper levels was certainly lacking. Every posted guard that the crew had encountered thus far were little more than Scavs in matching suits; just a bunch of cockroaches in costumes, playing way above their pay grade... and Jackson was happy to dispatch them with extreme prejudice.

He caught himself from crashing back against a wall, letting loose a deep exhale as he released the ruffled collar of one more casualty, gently setting the body down on the plushly carpeted floor of the hallway. A few feet away, Bison had the one remaining conscious cockroach down on his knees, arms raised and hands clasped as he silently prayed with the cold barrel of a silenced handgun pressed into the smooth crown of his shaved and tattooed head. There was no salvation to be had here and now, but for the moment, he was more useful alive than dead.

Doc Strong's eyes were flashing orange, deep in concentration as he kept watch around the corner with his own silenced iron at the ready. The T-intersection hallway leading to the elevators was littered with at least half a dozen bodies, the cold metal walls and lifeless paintings splattered with their gray matter and claret slowly dripping down and shining under the cold off-white fluorescents. After several seconds, the orange glow subsided and he nodded to both Jackson and Bison to signal 'all clear' as he turned the corner and took point further down the narrow corridor.

Jackson firmed himself as he walk over to stand in front of the kneeling scav, taking his own knee as he carelessly flicked the poor bastard's ear to grab his attention. He smirked and leaned in as he cautioned the cockroach with a whisper, "Now... you've seen our handiwork wit' your own eyes. You wan' a chance at gettin' out o' here alive, you'll do as we say, to the letter."

The scav looked up with utter disgust in his eyes, grumbling in Russian under his breath as Jackson continued, gripping the side of the man's head in his cold and chromed left hand, "Deviate even a little, an' I swear by the Almighty 'at the las' thing you'll ever see is my cold fingers rippin' them beautiful baby blues out o' your head..."

There was an audible and defeated sigh as the scav begrudgingly nodded, his eyes falling to the floor as he weighed the only option he had left. Jackson followed up with a question, "How many o' you inside the room?"

The scav shook his head and answered in a heavy accent, "None inside... client demanded... stupid."

With a swift jerk on the back of his collar, Bison had him up and on his feet in less than a second, whispering into his ear from behind, "Walk forward nice and slow, motherfucker... no sudden moves."

The scav stumbled forward, regaining his balance as Jackson stepped out of his way and covered Bison from the rear. Further down the hall, Strong had already taken his position on the far end of the door in question, indicating their target with a nod of his head.

Bison directed the scav to stand in front of the door, taking his place opposite Strong on the other side of the entryway, his eyes steely and holding no secrets as he held a finger over his lips. Jackson flattened himself against the far wall, careful to stay out of view from the peephole as he admired their surroundings. To contrast the metal walls, the door to the room was real solid wood adorned with gilded fixtures, including an old-fashioned keycard reader beneath the heavy handle. The wood grain shone through the dark finish, the lights overhead bringing out its true brilliance against the shadows of the otherwise empty corridor.

As the scav raised his hand to knock against the door, Jackson took a moment to collect himself, replaying the last forty-eight hours in his own mind of all that had transpired to get them to this point...

--

[Two days ago... - Mother Base]

The air hung heavy with the stench of fresh cigarette smoke as Jackson entered the infirmary briskly, his own two feet getting ahead of him as the rest of his body tried to keep up. The call finally came, Bison notifying everyone to meet immediately as he jacked himself into one of Doc Strong's terminals through his personal link. With a flash of his eyes, none other than the Living Legend herself appeared on the large mounted screen, flashing a wide smile full of ivory teeth as she remarked, "So many familiar faces... and I still feel like we've all yet to be properly introduced."

Jackson scoffed as he nodded, "Good to see ya, V... thanks for gettin' back t'us."

"I'm sorry it took so long... especially with all that's gone down since...", she shook her head, blowing a long lock of hair out of her face as she conceded to all of them, "These people you're after have gone through Hell and high water to stay off the radar."

Her eyes drifted to Jayce sitting upright on an exam table, long legs dangling awkwardly over the edge. The girl was tuned up and then some, a brace encompassing her entire left hand and half of her forearm. She was still covered in bruises and cuts, at least from what little of her upper body wasn't wrapped in bandages. She had a nasty shiner across her face from impacting against the steering wheel, and her overall demeanor was that of equal parts humiliation and frustration... all directed inward. Despite Strong's top-notch care, V could tell even at a glance that the poor kid was grieving, and she offered her own gentle words on the matter, "...all things considered, ya don't look half bad, kid... I-I'm sorry... for all of it."

"Wasn't you 'at took 'er...", Jayce spat before she remembered who she was talking to, her eyes slowly working up to the screen as she tried to smile, "...I-I... thanks."

V looked down for a moment, blushing and remembering another little red-ass she used to know whose mouth got the best of her at the worst of times. She quickly recovered, chancing a glance at Jackson side-eyeing his daughter before bringing them all back on track, "Probably safe to say we shook 'em up a bit at our last run-in..."

They all tried to stifle laughs as everyone's eyes cut to Bison before V continued, "They're very careful, never staying more than a few days in any one place... but it looks like Charles' corpo benefits are drying up..."

"How's 'at...?", Jackson asked, genuinely curious as V swiped through some data before flashing it their way as it appeared on the screen, "Independent as he may appear on the outside, somebody at Biotechnica kept him on the books as a full-time employee. Trauma Team Platinum, round-the-clock security detail, fat fuckin' spending account... all of that went belly-up within a week of Bison breeding his wife..."

Nobody could hold their laughter at that brash remark, even V, though she was once again quick to recover, "Seems Charles is funding this game of musical hotels out of his own pockets... and he's hiring out to Scavs for protection."

Jackson sucked his teeth, his eyes narrowing as their benefactor kept going, "They're on the run, no doubt, but they're not out of options yet... your work undermined the company's confidence in them, but there's still a chance for Charles to claw his way back into their good graces."

Bison mulled over a thought in his head before he interrupted, "If they were on Platinum coverage... why didn't they get flagged when we shook them down?"

V smirked as she looked at Bison almost proudly, "Guess when they're on the down-low, they don't like to be disturbed... seems it's not the first time they've disabled their active bio-mons and tracking."

Strong had a thought of his own, "But that would also mean Serena's bio-filters were offline at the same time..."

Bison's eyes widened as V took the reins again with a jab, "Thinking our boy here gave her a little sand bug from whatever strange he's sniffing after in the desert?"

She saw Bison mouthing the words, 'Fuck you', from the corner of her eye as Strong shook his head, "Nah, just wondering if there's a chance a second one of him could pop out in the next year... and that's a terrifying thought."

"Yeah, 's 'nough to keep me up at night...", Jackson mused sarcastically, trying his best to keep them on track... there was a girl's life hanging in the balance, jovial banter aside, "Ya say they move around pretty regularly... any chance o' trackin' where they might end up next?"

V shrugged her shoulders, "Were they smart, they'd book several reservations at once, then cancel the ones they don't use after check-in... but it seems in their relative panic, their strategic prowess is somewhat lacking."

"So we got a bead on 'em...", Jackson guessed, to which V confirmed, "I'll send the location over shortly... oh, and one more thing..."

Jackson perked up as V placed her hands on her hips, "Old lady says you don't have a 'runner on your crew?"

He looked down and chuckled to himself, feeling like he'd been taddled on as he nodded while V followed up, "I don't doubt you boys can handle yourselves with the physical bodies, but a high-brow establishment like this is bound to be ICE'd up with cameras and access control... I'll tag one of my guys to go with. He's reliable."

"We're very much obliged...", said Jackson with a hand over his chest and a bow of his head, "...we'll make sure to get 'im back to ya in one piece."

"Yeah... promises...", V chuckled with narrowed eyes, "Don't drag your feet... call me when it's done. And good luck."

The call dropped, V disappearing from the screen before any of them could even wave, much less give a proper farewell. Bison pulled his personal link free, letting it retract into his hand as he curled a fist and said, "Shiny... let's be bad guys."

Jayce was gearing up to hop down from the table as she asked, "W-What can I d—"

"You can focus on healin' up...", Jackson cut her off. It was the answer she expected, but not the answer she wanted as she tried to protest, "Pa, please, I-I can at leas—"

Jackson stomped his boot against the floor, the impact echoing in the open space as he stepped up next to her and looked in her eyes, "We're not doin' this again, kiddo... an' you will obey me this time."

Her jaw clenched as she looked away. His eyes softened as he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her and bringing her close as he whispered in her ear, "I already almost lost you once, Jayce... please..."

She melted into her old man's embrace as she wrapped her arms around him and nodded, "O-Okay... I-I promise."

After several seconds, they pulled apart, Jackson tipping Jayce's face up by her chin before swiping a bang of hair from her face as he smiled and said, "Look, for what's to come, I need you healed and ready to unleash Hell... ya get me?"

He held his right hand up as Jayce tried to fight the smile creeping in. She took his hand in her own as he kissed her knuckles and made a silent promise to her... when it was time, there wasn't a chance in Hell she'd be anywhere but right next to him on the front line of what was to come...

--

[Back to the present...]

The moment of truth was fast approaching, but before the scav rapped against the door, Bison blocked his arm down as he looked to Jackson for the all clear. All three of the boys were on a closed-circuit holocall with their fourth crew mate, a netrunner on loan from the Afterlife. While Jackson preferred to get his hands dirty front and center, he couldn't argue with the Living Legend for knowing more about how to navigate the City. It was her stomping grounds after all...

They were all on pins and needles, awaiting the green light before a scratchy voice spoke up in the call, "Okay, I'm jacked in to their network core... looks good from here."

That still wasn't an affirmative, and the crew stayed silent as the voice continued, "I've got the cameras on a rolling blackout schedule, floor by floor, and your floor is on its own loop."

"What 'bout comms...?", Jackson asked, a bead of sweat running down the side of his head. The voice answered with a low laugh, "No waves in or out without my say-so. Unless you gonks are planning on dragging ass once you get in the room, you'll have three minutes to get in and out before the other comrades starting asking for status reports."

"I think we can manage that...", Strong chimed in, uncharacteristically breaking his stoic demeanor on the job. Bison flashed a smile to both of them, "Unless I decide to go round two with the missus..."

Jackson sighed, "Can you zap 'is ass from here...?"

"Sorry, Jefe...", the voice confessed, "Bison and me go way back... you're clear to knock."

Jackson nodded, to which Bison moved his arm out of the way, staring down the scav as he whispered, "Nice and easy, kid... don't do anything stupid."

The scav gave him a side-eye before muttering something under his breath and raising a hand. He gave three single heavy knocks against the door, biding his time and waiting for an answer. After far too long, they all heard feet shuffling behind the door and followed by a distantly familiar deep voice, "What is it...?"

"R-Room service...", the scav forced the words, his voice shaky at first, "...compliments of front desk..."

Strong rolled a cart left outside one of the other rooms into view of the door, careful to keep himself out of the vantage point before Charles' voice called back, "Send it away, we're not interested..."

"They... insist... sir...", the scav pressed his point, trying to do his job of keeping Charles as close to the door as possible. In the background, the boys waited until the mysterious voice on the other end nearly shouted, "Lock bypassed, door's opening!"

To make the netrunner's point, the keycard locked flashed green, followed by a light and pleasant ding. Jackson took this as their sign and pushed forward, raising one leg up as he planted the full force of his boot into the scav's back. The body crashed into the door, pushing it open as Charles fell back with a shout. He landed flat on his back, holding his nose as he reeled from the impact of the heavy door against his face while Bison and Strong swarmed inside the room, clearing the empty spaces and calling out to each other.

Jackson casually crossed the threshold, stopping to grab the scav by the collar and drag him inside as he carefully kicked the door shut behind him. He dropped the dead weight with a muted thud as he looked down at Charles trying to recover and tried not to laugh. Pulling his revolver from a carefully concealed shoulder holster, he cocked the hammer and leveled the barrel at Charles' head. Once the clean-cut man came to and regained his senses, he held his hands up with eyes wide as he tried to scurry backwards across the floor, prompting Jackson to insist he stay put with a simple, "Ah, ah, ah!"

There was a trickle of blood running from Charles' nose into his perfectly trimmed mustache and beard, his breathing uneven as he pleaded incoherently for whatever he thought was about to happen. Before long, Jackson was joined by Strong who nodded and said with a calculated calm, "All clear on my end, where's Bi—"

He was cut off by the sound of a blood-curdling feminine scream echoing through the entire floor, setting everyone on edge as Jackson swore to himself before calling out, "Bison!"

In the far back room, any subsequent cries were muffled as Bison threw the woman down on the bed, clamping his heavy hand over her mouth and leveraging his sheer size to keep her in place as she fought him tooth and nail. He tried to keep his throat clear of her manicured claws, pleading with her to keep calm. He wasn't trying to hurt her, but she didn't believe him for obvious reasons. His only option was to knock her out altogether, and so he pressed his entire weight over her as he reached for a canister in his back pocket, shaking it vigorously. When it was ready, he firmed his hold on the woman again before pressing the small syringe against her neck as carefully as he could. He squeezed the canister, watching for the hissing release of pale vapor into the air. Once the dose was administered, slowly but surely, the woman's screams and flailing arms subsided before she was out cold, Bison exhaling with a relieved groan as he called out, "All clear!"

He paused for a moment, carefully brushing a thick lock of hair from Serena's face, admiring her beauty all over again before he came to his senses. He gently pulled her off the bed, hoisting her up and over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his chooms in the front of the suite.

He could tell by the look on Jackson's face that the man was not happy, and he tried to defend himself, "Hey man... she got the drop on me from the bathroom, came at me with a fuckin' corkscrew."

Strong was already standing over Charles, iron at the ready as he asked the obvious question, "What are the chances the other floors heard that?!"

"Higher 'an I'd like...", Jackson joked as he turned his attention to their holocall, "Can you confir—"

"Yeah I can!", the netrunner read his mind, "You got beaucoup bad guys banging your way now... I'm re-routing your escape. Hang a left out of the room, there's a utilities stairwell at the end of the hall. If you're lucky... and quick... shouldn't encounter any resistance."

"Nah... nobody's 'at lucky...", Jackson spoke out loud, twirling his revolver around to present the heel as he readied himself. Strong already had Charles by the collar, but he let go as soon as the impact sounded with a crunch of worn ceramic and steel against bone. Charles was out for the count, unconscious in a pool of his own blood as Strong quickly shouldered him and they made for the door, Jackson taking point to cover. He already had his revolver holstered, slinging up a silenced submachine gun and keeping it at the ready as he called back, "Stay on my ass!"

He checked both directions before exiting the room, walking backwards to cover their original approach as Strong and Bison moved past him to pave the way. His ears perked to an opening door at the far end of the hall, his eyes narrowing as he aimed down the sights and gave a quick burst. Several rounds found their target, peppering through the walls as a body collapsed in view of the corridor. He fired another burst, guaranteeing that whoever was trying to advance stayed put.

Strong tapped him on the shoulder to peel back, and he checked again, firing one last burst before he followed through the open door and into the cramped stairwell. He was already hating himself for having been a smoker all these years, staring down the twenty stories to ground level. He told himself at least it was down and not up, but he knew his legs and lungs would feel the burn all the same. He took a deep breath, kept his iron at the ready, and moved quickly behind his chooms, keeping his eye on the door above in case the remaining scavs got ballsy.

They were almost halfway down with no resistance... it was too easy, and all of them expected the worst. To prove their point, as soon as they reached the landing for the tenth floor, the door leading back to the suites flew open, nearly tearing from its hinges as several scavs rushed in. Bison was dead to rights despite having his iron up and ready... even on his best day without an unconscious and beautiful woman over his shoulder, there was no way he could put down half a dozen tangos in this close of quarters all on his own. Strong tried to rush forward, yelling to distract them before he stopped dead in his tracks, Bison stopping him from getting too close.

All at once, all six of the gangers cried out in agony, smoke and arcs of electric energy protuding from their ears, implanted eyes, and cyberware threading. The combined smells of heated metal and burning flesh filled the air until the onslaught ceased, all six bodies collapsing into a smoldering pile at the same time. With somewhat whimsical timing, the mounted security camera on the wall above them sparked, a slow trail of smoke and the smell of burnt plastic permeating upward.

Jackson arrived just in time, out of breath and utterly horrified at the sight before him as the netrunner asserted himself, "I'd say that earns me a round from each of ya when we get back..."

"Raincheck...", Jackson fired back as he led the way down the remaining floors while their guardian angel reassured them, "Cameras show clear all the way to the ground floor... this stairwell connects with the back alleyway exits, so we'll be waiting. Don't lollygag and you'll be clear from up top."

"Copy that... good lookin' out, kid.", the older cowboy praised their new friend's efforts as he said to Strong and Bison offline, "Maybe there's somethin' t'having a wizard like 'at on the crew... not 'at we need 'nother mouth to feed."

Strong and Bison looked at one another and shrugged. Never once in the past had Jackson even considered the possibility of adding a netrunner to the crew, and yet here and now, he was willing to throw all his weight behind the idea after seeing one in action firsthand. Or maybe chalk it up to an adrenaline high from things having gone so well... this was the first step forward in a long road to getting Nel back, and while they had their work cut out for them, this... this was a damn good start.

--