Players Invade Cyberpunk

Chapter 1215 - 395: Mobilization Begins

"Shot down an enemy plane, got my first blood!""Crap, I’ve been locked on, I’m out of flares, can’t shake the enemy."

"Can’t shake them off? Why not just fight them?"

"I’m worried about the plane, man, it’s worth more than a hundred of my lives!"

"These Europeans are tough, way better than the simulator AI."

"Initiate my pendulum maneuver!"

The Air Force channel was noisy, leaving Family Joy speechless.

In reality, people are more valuable than planes, but here it’s the opposite; people can respawn, planes don’t just refresh on the spot.

These are treasures the players risked their lives to seize; next time the enemy won’t give them the same chance, one plane crushed is one less plane.

And the deadliest part is that the pilot players refuse to retrofit for beyond-visual-range combat, insisting on close-range dogfights.

The reason being that long-range combat would significantly reduce the fun, making it feel like cheating, ending the fight too quickly.

If a real pilot dared to say that, they’d be skinned alive.

But this is a game, after all.

Even these planes are technically their personal gear they snagged.

What could Family Joy do?

Just put up with it.

All they could do was force a smile while watching the screen as they piloted planes, shouting, doing high-difficulty stunts like a circus to test the fuselage strength.

It’s maddening!

In the end, the results were decent, thanks to the preemptive strike, exploiting the loosened defense of the enemy’s fighter-bombers, shooting down seven enemy planes with a loss of two own.

The pilots ejected and were picked up by ground units, so their lives weren’t in danger, though dying or not hardly mattered to them.

But the tragic bombing left the command center players deeply disturbed.

The Commander-in-Chief was furious at the photos sent back by the search and rescue teams.

"Are these Europeans crazy? Instead of dropping bombs on us, they target civilians? If they have that much money, they could just give it to me."

"They probably came to obstruct us when they saw us evacuating civilians."

Wildman more or less grasped what those guys were thinking.

"They’re Europeans. They don’t care how much of Cuba’s population survives after this war. Anyway, the drug market is being quickly replaced by regulators, so the Cubans’ last value is to be bled dry for New America."

Both sides have the same idea.

"They’re just playing around; soon you’ll see even more outrageous stuff."

Family Joy paused, deciding to give everyone a heads-up.

"During the Bosnian War, wealthy Germans, Italians, Brits, and French would go to Sarajevo for shooting games, killing civilians for fun from buildings. These guys in Cuba...will only do worse."

Even in Night City, the rich wouldn’t just randomly shoot a few people for fun, but in a troubled region, such things are too common.

Everyone felt uneasy hearing this.

"It can’t get worse than now, can it? I feel this place is almost more chaotic than Night City."

"That’s not necessarily so," Wildman said.

"Remember that underground cult Brother Ni and the others investigated? Their core area is in Europe, and those guys don’t even consider themselves the same species as ordinary people."

"Oh, come on."

Hearing this, Tactical Pig could hardly hold it in.

"When is this game going to open the European map? When it does, I’m definitely hijacking two airliners to crash into the Eiffel Tower and Buckingham Palace, making up for the world’s lack of a 9/11, and that’s doing society a favor."

A drop of sweat ran down Family Joy’s projection forehead; the initial composure joining the group had almost vanished.

He was fully aware these people weren’t just all talk and were capable of anything, so he had to find a way to change the subject.

"Have Killer 42 and the others sent back any new intel?"

So far, aside from the villages outside the city, the players haven’t occupied any city, but their infiltration continued.

Over ten players had already sneaked into Da Haguai, surrounded on all sides.

"Yes."

Wildman brought up a string of photos and said,

"Those guys hole up in the barracks, living off air-dropped supplies, raiding homes for women, money, and food at all hours; all shops are closed, residents wait outside barracks for scraps, stealing protein blocks, and corpses—killed, starved, frozen, sick—litter the streets, the stench so bad even rats are out eating human flesh."

They want government power without government responsibility; these are Cuban drug traffickers.

"Damn...a bunch of animals."

The photos made players want to grab poop launchers and fight the animals in the city.

As extreme as it sounds, the worse the Cubans’ situation, the more advantageous it is for the player side.

Family Joy decisively said,

"We need to start the propaganda now, show what they’ve done, not just to outsiders, but also to those inside."

"Utilize our resources, start the propaganda machinery, use radios, televisions, broadcasts, spread this everywhere, to every village, every person in Cuba."

"Connect Brother Dao’s radio station, broadcast in Spanish 24/7, dismantle these drug gangs’ last foundations, then it won’t be Europe fighting us, but fighting all of Cuba. Let everyone know who’s the righteous side in this war."