"Royce, you bastard! You dare betray me?!"
Brick, the boss of Maelstrom, cursed as he fired his heavily modified pistol at another squad of Maelstrom members. His target? Royce—the traitor leading the rebellion.
Today, Brick was facing a trial that came for every leader of Maelstrom sooner or later:
Someone under him had decided it was time for a new boss.
This wasn't anything unusual in Maelstrom. Brick himself had risen to power through similar means. It was just his turn now. Win or lose—it came down to one life. In this gang, that wasn't worth much.
But what stung Brick was who had turned on him.
Royce.
Royce was a unique figure even among Maelstrom's freaks. His LED-covered optics burned bright across his face, but it was his unpredictable nature that made him truly dangerous.
The man was widely believed to be mentally unstable. One minute he could be discussing business like a rational person, and the next, he'd shoot you in the face for fun.
Most Maelstrom psychos had some kind of pattern—you could learn when to stay away. But Royce? Royce could hold a normal conversation... until he couldn't. He was impossible to predict, and therefore, twice as lethal.
Oddly enough, Brick had once been one of the few who could get along with Royce.
Brick himself was an outlier among Maelstrom. On the streets, he had a reputation as someone who followed rules—who understood order. Even corp profiles described him as "a smart operator—his friends outnumber his enemies."
That kind of praise meant a lot in Maelstrom, where leadership was usually won through brute force and cyberware. Brick had managed to climb to the top thanks to his ability to build alliances, not just raw firepower.
After all, Maelstrom might be a gang of psychos, but they weren't idiots. They knew that a well-connected leader could offer better protection than endless infighting.
Royce used to respect Brick. But today, that respect was gone.
There could only be one boss—and Royce had decided it should be him.
"I've already decided how this ends, Brick," Royce shouted. "I'm going to tell everyone you're dead, and they'll believe it!"
Knowing how Brick stayed in power, Royce had preemptively deployed nearby squads to ambush transport convoys—ensuring Brick wouldn't get backup.
Brick might not be the best fighter, but he had more allies than Royce. If he had time to send a signal, the tide could turn.
But Royce was counting on Maelstrom's fragmented structure to work in his favor. Once Brick was gone, his followers would have no leader to turn to. In this gang, loyalty didn't last without someone to rally behind.
Besides, this was Maelstrom. These lunatics could survive eyeball replacement surgeries without anesthesia. Changing leaders was nothing in comparison.
"Damn you, Royce! You won't get away with this!"
Brick looked around. His remaining squadmates—once thirty strong—were dropping fast.
He regretted ignoring the advice of one of his lieutenants, a man named Elis Kart, who had urged him to take Royce out preemptively.
Too late now.
"Hahaha! I don't need to fool everyone," Royce sneered. "I just need to eliminate those who won't follow me. Don't worry, Brick—maybe I'll let you live. Depends how I'm feeling."
"You're fucking insane!"
"Hope you're still screaming that when I catch you. Go on, run. You won't get far."
The ambush was swift and brutal. Royce had brought over 80 men. Brick's 30-man squad was reduced to three—including himself.
Still, Brick's men had fought like hell. Even after losing a third in the first wave, they managed to take out a comparable number of Royce's attackers.
But now? Three versus fifty. And Royce was one of Maelstrom's best fighters.
It was over.
"AAARGHHH!"
Brick screamed as his limbs were snapped and disabled by a netrunner. His cyberware went dead, and he was dragged before Royce.
His squad? Gone. Every last one.
Royce took a deep breath, savoring the air thick with blood, gunpowder, and the greasy tang of synthetic meat. He grinned down at his old boss.
"It's over, Brick."
"…Is it over for you?"
Just as Royce was about to speak again, a new voice echoed through the factory.
Everyone still alive heard it.
Royce's head snapped up instinctively.
There, perched high atop a steel support beam, a lone figure stared down at them.
He had clearly been sitting there a long time—watching the whole battle.
They recognized his face.
He wasn't Maelstrom.
Technically, logic said they should open fire immediately. No outsider should witness this kind of internal coup.
But the thing was—he was the logic now.
"KK," Royce growled through clenched teeth.
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