Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077
Chapter 298

Chapter 298 

2-IN-1-chapter

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The blast wave from the RPG struck with brutal force, sending one guard sprawling to the floor, while Leo remained rooted to the spot as if his legs were driven into the ground like steel stakes; he crossed his arms in front of him, bracing himself, his tactical goggles filtering smoke and gunpowder, though the guard laid out on the floor only managed to cough and sputter incessantly.

"V? V! Are you okay?!" Leo shouted just before another rocket slammed into the terminal—a second RPG—and pierced through the second-floor windows, trailing fire and smoke as it smashed directly into a gift shop inside the terminal. The shop collapsed instantly, debris of every kind raining down in a cloud of destruction.

The guard curled himself into a ball, hands pressed over his head, shouting, "Goddamn it! If I make it out this time, I'm quitting this job! One lousy paycheck a month—what the hell am I risking my life for?"

As the thunderous roar subsided, Leo's comms picked up V's voice: "Leo, you—are you okay? I'm coming in to find you now."

"No! Don't—get down outside, V—stay hidden, understood?" Leo snapped.

After ending his call with V, Leo glanced back at the guard and barked, "Get up! Now! No more lying around!"

Without waiting for compliance, he dragged the cowering guard by the arm like a limp carcass and hauled him toward a nearby Yoshinoya outlet—a random shop in this airport. The guard protested fiercely: "No, we can't hide in there didn't you see? It'll get buried! I'm not getting buried alive!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Leo snapped.

He reasoned that the attackers outside didn't have many RPGs, and given their firing angle, there was no way a rocket could curve and hit the restaurant. And with an airport that large, a few rockets wouldn't bring down the whole structure. Charging blindly into the open was suicidal—they'd be easy targets—so hiding was the smartest move.

Dragging the frightened guard inside, Leo pressed his back against the wall and keyed his earpiece. "Jackie? Jackie!"

"I hear you, Leo," Jackie's voice crackled. "What's going on? RPGs too?"

"Our intel's fuzzy, but we're surrounded. Armed men are outside the terminal, with heavy weapons."

"Fuck—V's outside!"

"I told her to stay put. She's safe—for now."

San Diego's airport parking lot was outside the main entrance, off the west wing. Leo assessed through his goggles that the attackers were massed outside that main entrance. As long as V didn't enter or approach that area, she would remain out of harm's way.

Jackie breathed out: "That's good."

"Stay inside the restaurant. Don't go out. I'm holding the front entrance."

Jackie sounded surprised: "Aren't we supposed to use another exit?"

Leo shook his head. "The Salamanca Cartel planned this assault—they won't leave escape routes. Our weapons are in the car; we're unarmed inside—it's too risky to try and fight. We'll wait for backup inside."

The cartel had made enough noise for San Diego PD to respond—this was California, not Tijuana. The National Guard was probably en route too. Rushing out now would only play into the attacker's hands. He had to hold his position.

True to his prediction, just as he spoke to Jackie, a car barreled through the revolving door, glass shattering as it crashed inside, followed by a dozen men pouring in. Gunshots erupted outside.

Leo scanned the chaos and realized the National Guard had arrived and were exchanging fire with the cartel's gunmen outside the airport terminal. The dozen men who broke in were a last-ditch assault force, meant to draw attention while the rest kept the defense pinned.

Leo remained crouched against the wall. Without hesitation, he fired several rounds at the windshield of the crashed car, the glass shattering and spraying blood as he struck the driver, killing him instantly. The car careened into a support pillar and stalled. He ignored the wreck and turned his fire on the remaining intruders.

He was wielding a Nokota D5 Copperhead assault rifle, not his previous Kang Tao G-58 Dian smart submachine gun—it had no auto-aim hacks now—but with each controlled burst, an enemy fell. His Firearms Mastery LV5 was giving him lethal precision.

He fired dozens of rounds, dropping most of the intruders. The few who survived scrambled for cover, unwilling to press on.

Over comms, he heard them: "We're pinned down! We can't get through!"

"How many are we facing?"

"Just one—but that guy's a monster!"

"Suppress him with the MG, then launch RPG—he won't survive it!"

He couldn't hear their voices directly, but his goggles tracked their communications and movements.

Suddenly a light machine gun—Constitutional Arms Defender LMG—sprayed a hail of bullets toward the wall he was behind, the rounds tearing through drywall and steel. Another assailant with an RPG rose and aimed at Leo's position.

Time seemed to freeze. The brim of the Defender's rounds hovered mid-air, the RPG's missile ready to launch. In that moment, Leo leapt from cover, firing two quick shots from his Copperhead, then sprinted toward the terminal exit. As he closed the distance, time snapped back to real speed. The machine gun's bullets struck the wall behind him, shredding drywall, and the rpg user's forehead erupted in a bullet-rain of its own.

He made it to the exit just in time.

They carried the RPG over their shoulders, and although the recoil from the bullets dragged their bodies backward, their fingers still pulled the trigger.

Whoosh—

The rocket launched upward from the raised launcher and exploded against the terminal's dome ceiling.

Boom!

Countless shards of glass and chunks of debris rained down like a storm.

Two enemies sprinted from behind cover to dodge the falling wreckage.

Leo ignored the debris above and focused solely on the two figures.

He raised his gun, took aim, and fired in one fluid motion.

Shots rang out, and the two men collapsed where they stood.

One enemy rose from behind cover without taking cover again; despair was etched across his face as he aimed a kinetic submachine gun at Leo.

Before he could fire more than a few rounds, a shard of glass, as thick as an arm, plummeted and pierced his skull.

His eyes went wide, and he dropped like a wooden plank.

Three enemies remained.

Leo sprinted toward those three, who were taking cover behind a bubble tea shop, firing suppressive shots as he ran.

By the time he had emptied his magazine down to a single bullet, he had reached the shop's entrance.

The three opened fire instinctively, but Leo slide‑tackled into the shop before they could adjust.

He slammed the stock into one soldier, leaving him dazed, then slipped behind him.

Bullets from pursuing enemies pinged into the man's back.

When the firing stopped, Leo drew his pistol from the waist of the enemy who lay dead, and with one shot each, he dispatched the two frantically reloading foes.

At that moment, the gunfire that had echoed through the entire airport fell silent.

He scanned the terminal again, and this time no enemy figures remained in sight.

Outside, the National Guard had wiped out the attackers as well.

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"Good evening, I'm John Smith of San Diego City Television, here with breaking news," the announcer said over the broadcast.

"Since its founding in 1850, San Diego has never before experienced a terrorist attack."

"But today at exactly 10:00 AM, unidentified assailants launched a terrorist attack at San Diego International Airport."

"The attackers used machine guns, RPGs, and other heavy weapons, inflicting severe damage upon the terminal."

"At this moment, City Hall has not released confirmed figures on casualties, but our station estimates that the passenger death toll will be substantial, and the economic and property losses will be incalculable."

"We have just received word that the Governor of California has expressed his condolences and stated that the entire state will mobilize to rebuild San Diego's airport."

"He also pledged that there will be no negotiations with terrorists—they will fight to the end."

"Additionally, the Western States National Assembly passed a unanimous resolution to support California, and the first wave of rescue personnel and aid supplies will arrive in San Diego shortly. Our station will continue to follow developments."

Leo turned the in-car radio dial quietly to its lowest volume, then placed both hands back on the steering wheel.

They were now driving through a stretch of wasteland outside San Diego.

With the crisis over, Leo had seized the chaos to gather everyone, rendezvous with V, avoid the National Guard and arriving police, and drive out of San Diego.

After an incident of this scale, the airport would certainly remain closed for some time.

Even though Lucy had already purchased their tickets, staying in San Diego now served no purpose.

After hearing the broadcast, Leo said calmly, "This might really be one of those times when something bad turns out good."

Jackie looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Leo griped the wheel with one hand and raised a finger with the other, using the gesture to emphasize his point. "Since the Unification War ended, it's been seven years. The Western States Union—made up of California, Nevada, Utah, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico—is a loose federation."

"How loose? To put it bluntly, the Western States were the product of hastily glued alliances. They only joined forces during the war to resist New America's expansion."

"After the war, they didn't dissolve the union, but each state's relation to the National Assembly was more 'listen in name only.' If nothing changes, the Western Union will fall apart in a few years."

"New America has taken note. Rather than invading with force, they've focused on media campaigns and propaganda to sow division within the Western States."

"But this terrorist attack, originally orchestrated by the Salamanca Cartel against us, has accidentally become a catalyst—Uniting the Western States again. Even the cartel likely didn't foresee this."

Hearing that, the others finally looked enlightened.

After a moment, V, who was driving the car behind them, asked curiously, "Leo, where are we headed now?"

Leo led them out of the city without giving directions, merely commanding them to follow him. They had left San Diego nearly three hours ago, yet the view through the truck windows remained desolate. They hadn't taken the interstate, but drove deeper into the wilderness, where no roads existed. Even after three hours, the landscape before them was monotonous: endless wasteland comprised of violent winds, swirling sand, and a barren desert devoid of human presence. Though New York and Los Angeles represented America's vibrant side, and the swamps of Louisiana its murky heart, this empty western expanse was equally American.

At last, Leo pulled the pickup to a stop. "This is close enough. Get off the vehicle," he said. "I have something to tell everyone."

He was the first to step out. Although confused, the others followed. They looked around the expanse—nothing but the arid wilderness and no sign of life.

Jackie frowned. "Leo, why have we stopped here?"

Leo explained, "We cannot continue forward, because whatever happened in Tijuana and San Diego would happen again in the next city, and even in Night City."

"So you mean…" The others exchanged glances filled with surprise. "We're going to settle things with the Salamanca Cartel here?"

Jackie shook his head first. "The Salamanca Cartel rules Tijuana. They must have at least eight hundred gunmen—if we neutralize the pursuers, the cartel will simply send more."

Until a day ago, they had thought that once they escaped Mexico, they would be beyond the cartel's reach. But no one still held that illusion now. The Salamanca boss, Hector Salamanca, was clearly unhinged, even sending men disguised as terrorists to attack San Diego's airport. Leo asked himself whether Hector believed Californians lacked the intelligence to uncover the truth, or whether revenge blinded him to everything else.

"I'm not just talking about stopping the pursuers," Leo said calmly. "I'm talking about ending this problem permanently."

The others froze. "How do you plan to do that? You don't mean go back to Tijuana, do you?"

Leo nodded, confirming their assumption. "As the saying goes, thieves can run a thousand days, but no one can stay on guard for a thousand days. Only by taking out the Salamanca boss can we ever be truly safe."

"But as a leader, Hector Salamanca will have heavy protection, and more important—we don't even know where he is. How are we supposed to carry out a decapitation strike?"

Beheading strikes were classic, used by countless generals throughout history. But executing one was not easy—opponents were not foolish. Hector would surely bolster his defenses and stay hidden like a mole.

Leo remained confident. "I already have a plan."

Seeing the certainty in his expression, the others, who had harbored doubts, gradually relaxed. If Leo claimed to have a plan, they trusted him.

"However," he continued, "before we return to Tijuana, there is one more thing that must be done."

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