Cyberpunk: Ultimate Cyborg System
Chapter 234: Operation Wolf Slayer. (Part 22)

Chapter 234: Operation Wolf Slayer. (Part 22)

"... Arrow... why did you do that?"

Night Gale sounded a little shaken, her eyes still fixated on the white flames devouring what remained of the opponent they had just fought. The gruesome, bloody scene of their fur-covered teammate sinking his fangs into the enemy was still fresh in their minds, and just when they thought the fight was over, they were hit with another shocking scene.

The dying Carlo Romano had the upper half of his body blown apart. He wasn’t given the chance to draw his last breath, the last thing he felt being the suffocating sensation of blood spewing from his mouth.

"Why are you acting so surprised?" White Arrow turned to them with furrowed brows. "If it were that easy to take out a Level 4, we wouldn’t have struggled that much. He could’ve taken out one of us even in that state."

It was something they had all noticed, but only he was decisive enough to act on it. Still, watching him blow off someone’s head like that was a little too much for the rest of the team.

After taking a moment to process what happened, the leader forced herself to put the matter aside with a sigh.

"Sunray, go heal that idiot." And by idiot she meant none other than their furry teammate. "Seriously, Werewolf. What happened to all the martial arts training you did? Does it all go away the moment you fully transform?"

"What are you talking about? I used everything I had just now." Coughing a few times, Werewolf turned away and spat the contents of his mouth, his face twisting from the metallic taste of human blood.

"You sure? From the side, it looked like you were just a rabid dog trying to bite someone."

White Arrow’s comment struck a sensitive nerve, causing everyone to glare at him once more. He was getting a lot of angry looks as of late—more than usual.

"Well, this isn’t a movie." Grabbing his dislocated shoulder, Werewolf grimaced as he popped it back into place. "Real fights are chaotic. You won’t see much choreography when fighting to the death."

It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t false either. The Romano executioner had mixed some boxing into his fighting style, but since it relied quite a bit on his Argentomancy, the martial art itself takes a backseat.

For the duration of the fight, Werewolf found himself more concerned about his opponent’s ability to manipulate silver than the actual technique behind his attacks and movements. Since he was fully transformed, Werewolf had to alter his technique as well to accommodate the use of his claws and fangs.

Those reasons, in addition to the accelerating pace of the fight, made it appear as if the exchange of blows was random and chaotic, even when it was far from that.

Wolf gazed at his opponent’s corpse, or what was left of it, at least. In his mind, he went through everything he did during the fight, unable to stop himself from analyzing every move he made. For some reason, the voices of his teammates echoed the entire time, and as he listened to them, something about what happened began to feel off.

"Maybe... maybe you should go wash yourself..." Said Sunray, her right hand held hovering as she hesitated. "This really doesn’t look good for you."

Being fully transformed with a bloody maw, a drenched neck, and chest made for a truly terrifying sight, especially with the contrast between the crimson color and white fur.

Werewolf was no fan of his current state either so he wanted nothing more than to revert back to his base form and go take a quick shower. Night Gale seemed to agree with Sunray’s suggestion, but White Arrow had a different idea.

"No, just leave it at that." He said, the corners of his mouth rising.

~[ ]~

In the elevator hall of the thirty-eighth floor, a crowd of people was gathered. They were members of the Romano family who, upon hearing about the raid of the NVPD and BEO coalitions, moved with the intention to intercept them.

For a while, they found themselves unable to do much of anything, with the elevators nonoperational and whatnot, but after great effort from the Divers and Gearheads among them, they were able to isolate a few from the hotel’s network, removing the obstacle that dictated their actions. Even then, they were still barred from launching a counter-offence by the family’s executioners.

Apparently, several hero teams were leading the raid. Numbers didn’t matter a lot in a battle against high-level EIs, so instead of rushing in, most of the family’s forces -those attending the wedding, at least- were ordered to stay back while the executioners dealt with the enemy.

Of course, telling a bunch of hot-blooded mobsters to stay back only served to raise their anger and irritation. From time to time, they felt slight tremors coming from above, but with no way of knowing how the battle was developing, they could only grit their teeth and wait.

Their imagination worked overtime to give them a glimpse of the outcome, but one thing they failed to expect was one of the elevators moving again less than five minutes after their executioners left.

Of course, they all rejoiced, thinking one of their Level 4 powerhouses made short work of the so-called heroes and returned victorious. They gathered around the elevator, preparing to welcome their champion, but when the door opened, an entirely different sight met them.

They saw the long legs, which bent at an odd angle, then pure white fur. Something was filling the interior of the elevator, but their minds failed to comprehend what they were looking at, even when their gazes moved up.

A crimson stain marred the pure white fur, its shape hinting at the source being farther above. Their search led them to a bloodied maw, and the rows of fangs lining it were undoubtedly the tool used to draw out the red painting them.

Though the elevator itself was properly illuminated, those gazing at it felt as if darkness had consumed the interior, shrouding whatever creature was standing inside it in shadows.

Those at the very front were the first to land their gazes on its head, and when they did, a pair of gleaming red circles stared back at them. A sudden chill spread through the thirty-eighth floor, accompanied by the low growl of a beast ready to pounce.

By the time the mobsters grasped what was happening, the beast lunged at them, unleashing a carnage.

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