Players Invade Cyberpunk-Chapter 762 - 248: Soviet Superman

A few thunderous explosions sounded, followed by the crackling of gunfire and shouts. The Cleaner near the gate was in chaos, seemingly disrupted by an unknown enemy ambush.

"Who!"

It was right before the storm hit, and both Soviet agents had heightened their alertness to the max. The sudden outbreak of conflict startled both of them.

Quickly pulling up surveillance footage, seeing two or three dozen exoskeleton warriors advancing toward the outer stronghold, Boris blurted out

"It's those lunatics outside, how are they moving so fast, suka blyat! Do these guys not understand what restraint means?"

An hour or two ago, they had just raided one of their strongholds, and before they even got comfortable, they attacked this core stronghold of the Cleaner. You don't even want a halftime break?

"It seems like they're planning to wipe out the Cleaner completely."

Karenina's head was splitting with pain. She wasn't too worried about the safety of the stronghold; it's the Cleaner headquarters, not impregnable, but surely not worse than Fort Douaumont from World War I.

There's no way they could be defeated by a sudden ambush.

What's concerning is the attitude of these people towards the Cleaner. Unlike other gangs, these mercenaries don't have this same eradication momentum against the Tiger Claw Gang or the Sixth Street Gang.

The pressure Soviet Petrochemical is applying on Horizon Corporation is not enough to make them stop.

"Dammit, what on earth is the higher-up thinking? Do they want this smuggling line or not, give us a definitive answer!"

"We'll talk about the rest later; the urgent task is to deal with these guys. Maybe we can get some useful information from them."

Facing his colleague's complaints, Boris chose to ignore them. This woman had some cunning, could manage some miscellaneous tasks, but was useless at critical moments.

He turned around and opened a weapon case, pulling out a Nekomata sniper rifle and his favorite smart silenced pistol [Oh shit].

The Cleaner is the most underrated gang on the streets, their individual combat ability the weakest among Night City's gangs.

But these guys can do things other gangs can't, like carving out a big chunk of territory from Netherworld Dog's hands in Dog Town. Even repeatedly clashing with Hansen and escaping unscathed.

The Cleaner relies not just on the backing of Soviet Petrochemical.

There's also military strength.

Retired spec ops soldier Boris Rikov is the ultimate assurance of the Cleaner's military strength.

Entering combat mode, Barikov's body seemed to vanish into the air in front of Karenina, even his breathing and footsteps disappeared, as if he had never been there.

"Tch... Monster..."

Karenina, unwilling to give up, also drew her gun and followed.

————

Dog Town is not Night City's streets, where weapon choices can be described as unrestrained. Plus, the Cleaner already smuggles firearms here, so the intensity of firefights is several magnitudes higher than outside, almost matching the Battle of Big Sur without cannons or tanks.

Wearing the MT-1PRO version, Arnold held a heavy riot shield at the frontline, facing a torrent of gunfire from seven or eight machine guns. A metal storm pounded violently on the shield, with countless shattered tracers almost turning him into a lightbulb.

Only the thickened solid alloy shield made for disarmed use could hold up; any armored vehicle in its place might have been riddled with holes by now.

But even so, Arnold knew the shield wouldn't last long, as the number of Cleaners ahead kept increasing.

This is their headquarters; high firepower isn't lacking. If they bring out flamethrowers or something, no thickness of his shield will save him.

"Quickly knock out their fire points! We can't hold much longer."

Valhalla had brought quite a few rocket launchers and explosives, but the Cleaners held a firepower and terrain advantage. Players attempting to aim and fire were quickly suppressed, unable to achieve much even when sheltered behind MT-1.

"Damn, if only Mongolian Toplaner were here."

At this moment, Sword Saint somewhat missed the sound of those mortars heard in Big Sur, but unfortunately, such things couldn't be brought into Night City. Since Watson District's fleeting moment, weapon bans had tightened, making it impossible to bring them into Dog Town.

"Masked, where are your guys! Get up there now!"

Not far from the frontlines, a person jumped down upon hearing the call, rising with his left fist at his waist and his right hand extended in a handgun pose.

"Feast your eyes! My transformation!"

Although Masked Rider had already suited up by the time he jumped out.

Even in a cyberpunk era with advanced technology, it's still impossible to conjure up a suit of armor out of thin air.

Behind him followed a non-stop series of various BGMs and high-pitched electronic sounds.

"DRIVE! TYPE! SPEED!"

"All-Mighty Action! All-Mighty Jump! All-Mighty Kick! Extreme Action X!"

"RABBIT! TANK! BEST MATCH!"

"......"

Masked Riders, all flamboyantly dressed, jumped out one after another, striking various poses they deemed stylish.

Sword Saint almost burst into laughter watching this boy band-like bunch.

"Still posing over there? Believe me, I'll dock your pay and throw all you idiots into the Red Barrel construction site to move bricks!"

Upon hearing the word docking pay, the riders couldn't remain calm.

Standing at the forefront, Masked Rider raised a customized high-voltage baton and shouted

"Masked Riders! Assemble! Breakthrough!"