The Creators: From Night City

The combination of the two, coupled with Jiang Bing's usual powerful brick-flying design concept, the power can be imagined.

boom--! ! !

The heavy car was suddenly lifted high.

The unique design allowed the magnetic bomb to easily penetrate the thick chassis of the vehicle. All the high-energy liquid hydrazine fuel turned into a milky red mist wave that gushed out, filling the entire space inside the vehicle in the blink of an eye, and then diffused into the large area of ​​air outside the vehicle along all the tiny gaps.

The fog was as sticky as a living thing, instantly infecting all spaces within the range.

Then, the second-stage CL-20 explosives exploded, igniting all the liquid hydrazine simultaneously.

A blazing white sun suddenly lit up in the open space.

Violent flames exploded from the fog, and the expanding fireball was more than twenty meters in diameter, and oxygen was madly sucked out wherever it passed.

The car body, the human body, and the road melted like butter. The screams of several people in the car had not yet reached their throats when their lungs collapsed in the negative pressure, and then turned into fragments in the shock wave, and then were burned to ashes by the subsequent high temperature.

High-temperature air waves swept across the entire area, carrying steel fragments that had melted to varying degrees, leaving melted marks on the fences and road sound barriers.

The fire cloud rolled up and turned into a bright red mushroom cloud, dyeing the sky blood red.

Secondary explosions triggered by high temperatures continued to sound, adding to the horrific scene at the scene.

A piece of steel was melted into liquid by the high temperature, and was thrown by the shock wave to the road not far in front of the car of Tingwei Colby "Shepherd Boy". It fell limply to the ground, splashing a circle of metal liquid and solidifying rapidly.

"!Increíble! (This is incredible!) Are you kidding me about the power of this thing?!"

Vincent did not respond to Jack's sigh. He was busy turning the car around and fleeing the scene in a panic among the traffic.

........................

David and Lucy were out on a business trip, that was the official line, of course.

There's nothing wrong with the two of them saying they were on a date.

The Coronado Farm Workers' Mutual Aid Association was recently reestablished, and this time, no one was so blind as to interfere. The Six Street Gang members in this area also took the initiative to reduce their activities and try not to hang out on the streets unless necessary.

But once a violent power vacuum is created, there will always be other alternatives to fill it.

Workers' mutual aid associations emerged and filled most of the gaps.

But time is short and there are always corners that we ignore.

The scavengers, once slaughtered by the "masked demon", are like weeds on the roadside. After several months of wild growth, they have returned to the streets and alleys of Coronado Ranch.

Without the restraint of the Six Street Gang, they acted even more crazily.

David parked the car in front of the Workers' Mutual Aid Association, and several workers surrounded a lifeless middle-aged man.

"We tried our best but only brought back her body."

Lucy silently opened the trunk, revealing the body wrapped in a sheet inside.

The victim had a dull expression on his face as he watched everyone unload the body. His heart was dead and he had lost all hope.

Old Logan stepped forward, "David, where did you find her?"

"In a scavenger's nest, but we got there too late, and her insides had already been eviscerated."

Old Logan kicked the roadside railing and bent it, his eyes blazing with fire, wishing he could eat its flesh and bones.

"These damn rats have been getting more and more rampant recently. This is already the third time this month. They should all be drowned in the toilet."

"I suggest you report this to your superiors." Lucy suddenly spoke up.

Holding a cigarette specially supplied by Anti-Entropy, she stared blankly at the victim's father crying and wailing in the distance.

"After all, these gutter rats are preventing you from doing your job properly, aren't they?"

Old Logan's eyes gradually lit up.

"You mean?"

Lucy glanced at the sign next to the door that read "Workers' Mutual Aid Association." "I'm sure the company won't sit idly by and watch something like this happen."

After the previous ups and downs, the workers' mutual aid association that successfully survived has become an organization that cannot be ignored by others in Coronado Farm.

Especially after Old Logan led the congregation to successfully complete two friendly "armed wage demands" and distributed all the compensation, the number of members of this organization that can not only introduce good jobs but also protect the rights and interests of its members began to expand rapidly.

Old Logan fully learned from his previous experience and applied to equip his core members with weapons. The title of Coronado Ranch underworld boss was well-deserved for him.

There are people, guns, and money.

This is what we workers call power.

So Old Logan submitted the report as he was told. The summary of the content was basically something like 'the little scavenger is running around, destroying the peace of the Coronado Farm, ignoring the authority of the Workers' Mutual Aid Union, repeatedly slapping people in the face, and refusing to change despite repeated warnings. His crime deserves death', 'the scavenger villain is victorious and committing crimes against the wind, and he is destined to die', 'this is not only a slap on the Workers' Mutual Aid Union, a slap on Old Logan's ass, but also a slap on the face of us [Anti-Entropy]' and so on.

The experienced old cowboy also kindly attached some recent factual cases in order to make his point of view that "scavengers must be carried out at all times and there is no alternative but to do so" in order to provide reason and evidence.

Given his understanding of the boss Jiang Bing, as expected, the Evil Land headquarters soon sent back further instructions on collecting intelligence on the scavengers.

…………

That night.

Rooftops have been a good place for meetings since ancient times.

It is concealed, has a wide field of view, and there is no need to worry about being ambushed. The entry and exit channels are single, making it easy to inspect.

Song Leckley sat on the rooftop, smoking a cigarette, looking melancholy.

His boss died, and not a trace of his body was left.

Chapter 220 Classic Opening

An attack in the daytime that was suspected to have used high-energy fuel-air explosive bombs not only killed people but also spared no vehicles.

After NCPD arrived at the scene, they waited for more than half an hour before the temperature was just high enough to allow the officers to enter. The largest piece of physical evidence found at the scene was a wheel hub fragment the size of a fingernail.

Most of the objects were burned, leaving only an irregular mass of solid metal condensed from molten metal, lying on the melted road.

Faced with this situation, there is no place to investigate any modus operandi or assassination method.

An attack of this scale would be big news even in Night City, a city steeped in martial virtue.

Naturally, all TV stations tracked and reported on this in all aspects. Each channel protected its own master and frantically threw dirty water on the opponent without distinguishing right from wrong.

WNS News even stopped promoting Saburo Arasaka and instead called in a large number of experts to prove whether there was any dirty deal between the deceased and New America. It also listed a series of recent actions by NCPD in an attempt to find reasons why New America might have taken action.

The channel's most popular military program, "Guns on Horseback," even devoted an entire episode to exploring what specific weapons could achieve this effect.

During this period, they naturally tried to overtly and covertly lead the murderer to military technology, whose main business is military manufacturing, weapons research and development, production and sales.

At the end of the show, the host, as usual, recommended a product related to the show (the show itself was a sales pitch disguised as a science education program)—a replica of the Liberty War commemorative "dog tag" (soldier identification badge) made of a copper-chromium-niobium alloy. The selling point was cleverly integrated with the attack itself—it could withstand temperatures of 6000 degrees Celsius without deformation, ensuring a complete and undisturbed death in any situation.

It's amazing that despite such hellish marketing, the sales of "dog tags" are actually quite good.

N54, on the other hand, spares no effort in favoring the new US government and the military technology behind it.

Of course, the station's methods are slightly inferior.

In addition to exclusively reporting on the views of the new US President Rosalynn Miles on this matter, it also took the opportunity to publicize the political ideas of the female president, and appealed to the Night City Council, suggesting that Night City rejoin the federal government, and to persuade the citizens of Night City to leave the wilderness and move to the United States, to be protected by the new United States, and to enjoy eternal peace, etc.

The news was everywhere, with all kinds of versions of the story. On radio, television, and the Internet, the death of Sarak Jerine undoubtedly set off a carnival on the Internet.

He put himself in the game and boosted the GDP of Night City. It's really heartbreaking.

Everyone is trying to get a bite of this steaming hot 'blood-soaked steamed bun', so much so that Black Mewtwo like the one in "Walk with Sarlak Jellion and Experience the Same Big Bang!!!" has appeared on the black market.

No one cares about the truth of the matter. People just want to get what they want from it, or make others believe what they want others to believe.

Except Song.

He understood the truth, so when faced with the various opinions and chaos on the Internet, he could see through them more clearly and found them even more absurd.

The future is uncertain, the road is precarious, the reality is cruel, and the world is ridiculous. All these cannot help but make him feel a little confused.

"It's your turn."

A deep voice suddenly sounded from behind, but Song was completely immune to such sudden attacks.

"You guys made quite a big noise, even resorting to using fuel-air explosives."

"Compared to Bushido No. 2 (the nuclear bomb Johnny once detonated at Arasaka Tower), it's still far behind."

Song threw the cigarette butt on the ground, stomped it out, and looked back.

"It's a good joke."

Jiang Bing stood quietly by the door, leaning on his cane.

"It's almost time for you to come on stage."

Jiang Bing placed a metal piece with an address printed on it on the railing.

"Jefferson Perales, attorney, former Coronado Ranch District Attorney, and current member of the Night City Council. This is his address."

"Why, he's one of yours?"

"Not really. Sometimes there's no need for power or money. He's an idealist who hates evil."

Having said that, Jiang Bing paused slightly.

"At least for now."

"As long as you give him the evidence in your hand and explain your views on the future of Night City, I believe he will help you fulfill your wish."

After finishing the main business, Jiang Bing changed the subject and talked about something else.

"I want you to restrain the patrol officers on the streets at night for the next three days."

"What? Are you planning to rob someone and can't help but show your true colors?" Song's question was tinged with sarcasm.

"Believe me, this is for the good of you and your men."

"If you don't want your people to die unnecessarily, it's best to have them walk slower when they go out on patrol."

"What exactly do you want to do?" Song raised his eyebrows with a serious expression.

“Do good things.”

Leaving behind his own advice, Jiang Bing jumped off the rooftop under the other party's distrustful gaze.

…………

Although the scavenger's organizational structure is loose, it still has a complete connection system.

Unlike other gangs, the connections between scavengers are based entirely on interests.

Black market dealers, illegal prosthetic doctors, medical institutions, etc., these channels for selling stolen goods cannot be handled by a small group of three or five people.

This gave rise to the distribution middlemen in this industry, who bought from the bottom and sold to the upper class, reaping the benefits from both ends by getting in the middle.

'Butcher' Khalid, an excellent and senior street sweeper, is dedicated to his work. He started his business with just a table knife and has been fighting against wind and waves for more than ten years. He has experienced countless hardships and dangers, and has worked hard and braved wind and rain. He has worked his way from a small street sweeper to the famous boss he is today, all thanks to his unyielding perseverance and stubborn temper.

And of course, his titanium guts.

Some time ago, almost all of the colleagues at Coronado Farm were wiped out by the "Masked Demon", and for a time this place almost became a forbidden zone for kidney harvesting business.

However, the subsequent disappearance of the "Masked Demon" led many scavenger groups with serious internal conflicts to take a risk.

"Maybe that madman has died in a stinking ditch somewhere?" Many people hold this idea.

Fortune and wealth are achieved through risk, so Khalid gritted his teeth and became one of the first to try it out.

As it turned out, his bet was right, and the vast blank market allowed his business to take a step forward in a short period of time.

But what he didn't know was that wealth and honor are sought in danger, but also lost in danger. One out of ten chances of seeking them will be achieved, but nine out of ten chances of losing them will be achieved.

Khalid hasn't done any work himself for a long time, but he still likes to go to the "workshop", to the grassroots, and work with his subordinates to experience the hardships of front-line work.

This is called not forgetting one's roots.

……

Cold, shaking.

The humid air rushed straight into the person's forehead, and the smell of metal mixed with blood penetrated into the nostril of the unfortunate man who had just woken up from a coma.

"Wake up, you have the best physical fitness among this group of people."

A strange voice sounded in her ears.

Chapter 221 High-level hunters often appear as prey