[h3][center]>://OVER_DRIVER[/center][/h3]

[center]Interacting with: [@Opposition] and [@Prizrak][/center]

With Taryn in tow behind him, Mack’s footfalls echoed through the barely lit halls of the abandoned Rail-Stop. The walk was punctuated by drops of fetid water from leaking pipes and the silent breeze that blew through the open train-yards, picking up motes of dust and street detritus. With every nerve-wracking step he took, Mack felt as if the darkness was slowly enclosing on him like a rabid pack of out-Zoner mutants, even with the reassurance that the motion and infrared sensors in his Prism were reading zero. The sugar was starting to wear off with Mack’s clammy skin beginning to itch torturously, as if it was a second set of clothing around his flesh. His finger was curled near the trigger of his Street-Shredder, inching towards it like a rat approaching a mouse trap. 

The familiar presence of Delilah’s voice into his helmet comms would have been reassuring, if it wasn’t for the fact she was directly contradicting what was spoken earlier. A loud din of noise suddenly breached the wall of silence at the very moment Delilah finished her sentence, intruding that which the RailStop had built up over time through abandonment and decay. “ Hold onto that thought,” Mack replied back as he held a hand back for Taryn to stop. They weren’t alone here. He continued to walk further into the dark, gaping maw of the trainyards, nearing a small outcrop of pale yellow light. The familiar red glow of infrared - human heat - began to apepar on his Prism as a man strode out of the darkness, towing what seemed like one of the voting kiosks with him on a cart. Everything about the man spoke street punk. His black hair was industrially cut and shaved to the root. A high-collared jacket and ragged synth-fibre pants adorned his body. The street raff had also seemingly chromed up his right arm, mechanized digits reaching for the heavy calibre pistol in his holster. Which was being pointed towards him and Taryn right now. Mack might have been more confident of their two-to-one odds if two more guys didn’t appear out from the back. The common connection between all of them was the strange logo that had been branded on their cyberware. Hell, there wasn’t any modern corporation nor organisation that he knew used that -

Except one certain mayoral election candidate and his band of merry supporters. 

It hit him. The disappearance of Rott from the final debate. The presence of the Knights here at this station. It wasn’t on accident. It was on purpose. Of course, Rott would be the type of man to stoop to such dirty tactics. Mack began to raise up his A.B.C SMG, though, he didn’t have the luxury of striking first blood as the Knights began opening up with a heavy fusilade of lead, burnt propellant trailing behind each projectile, rounds flying out from the barrel at dizzying speeds, ready to send him flinging - 

“ Geeeeeettttttttt ttthhhhhheeeee laaaaasssssssttttt ooooooonnnnneeee-”

The Kasparovian booster-ware sank his nerves into a river of jellied time, blurs of high-velocity bullets transforming into slugs that were travelling at the speed of a softball. His heart hammered in five-second intervals as every sensation he felt was magnified ten-fold. He felt like the arbiter of speed in this realm, this addicting reality that only he could access for himself. However, the fast reaction times that the booster-ware conferred onto him would only act as a illusory shield towards the bullets that were currently careening towards them. Without wasting time, Mack pushed Taryn out of the way of the initial fusilade. Unfortunately, he was just one heart-beat too late as a bullet slowly ran a gouge through the side of his Prism. He ducked down wildly underneath a corroded plastic bench before crawling towards the safety of one of the many concrete pillars. 

“Great.” Mack sidled up onto his bottom, his Prism slightly cracked with a wicked groove that dug into the poly-laminate armouring.“Isn’t it just great how you bump into people at the train station, Weaver?!” Another spray of high-velocity bullets shattered a window to the right of his position. The two armed gangsters had taken up cover behind the dwindling and were firing at them in controlled bursts, yelling at them to retreat. To piss off. Warning shots. 

Fuck that. 

He took out the A.B.C and fired overhead without looking, wild uncoordinated sprays of high-velocity flechettes in the general direction of the gangsters. Puffs of grey burst out of the concrete pillars, a few sticking into the shoulders and legs of their assailants. Mack continued peppering the Knights with untrained bursts, the steaming barrel erupting erratically until it clicked empty. He stopped. The cheap plastic frame of the A.B.C was beginning to warp and bend like old chewing gum from overheating. He stared from behind his cover to look at the remaining survivors. 

It had done fuck all. Instead of wounds, all the Secedo 5mm’s had managed to do was leave a trail of red welts. Mack threw his ABC onto the ground with a clatter before drawing out the Street Shredder. One barrel. One shell. He breathed inwards. Good enough. He waited for the cacophony of rifle-fire. aimed devastation at a thick concrete pillars that one of the Knights were hiding behind. The muzzle flash blinded him for a few seconds like a flash grenade as the sub-sonic propellant ignited, propelling the anti-material round towards their cover. The concrete immediately imploded inwards before  The kinetic penetrator slug that was a part of the ‘SoulKraft’ pain package The Knight , who was now uncovered, was knocked onto the ground, groaning in pain but not dead. Mack’s entire right arm ached from the bucking recoil as he surveyed the damage done. A large, red scar bled from one of the head of the Knights as they wearily stood up. He’d done jack-shit in terms of actually killing a person. 

“ Hey, Amano! Rott’s got his people hijacking the goddamn RailStop voting kiosks! You mind telling me - “ Mack crouched downwards, swiveling his head away from the left, to avoid a spray of bullet-fire that could have taken his head off. “ - where Cantos is right now? We’re pinned down here! ”