"Pacer!"
Rebecca called out, her voice cutting through the chaos.
The man snapped his head toward Six, his expression a mix of suspicion and barely contained rage.
"What the hell do you want? Ain't you supposed to be working for the NCR now?"
"I'm trying to stop you from getting yourselves killed."
Six shot back.
"You really think you can take on the NCR and walk away from this?"
Pacer sneered.
"They fired first! We were just keeping watch, and those bastards started shootin'."
Six glanced back at the NCR troopers. They looked just as tense, but something wasn't adding up.
"Who, exactly, fired first? And why?"
Before Pacer could answer, a sudden explosion rocked the area—a grenade went off near the barricades, sending debris flying. Both sides panicked, opening fire wildly.
"Shit!"
McCormick cursed, ducking behind cover.
Six grabbed Pacer by the collar and yanked him back before he got himself shot.
"We need to stop this now! Who gave the order?!"
Pacer struggled against Six's grip, his eyes wide.
"It wasn't the King, I swear! Someone else—"
Before he could finish, a single shot rang out from a nearby rooftop. Pacer's body jerked, and he collapsed into Six's arms, blood pouring from a fresh gunshot wound in his neck.
"Sniper!"
Boone yelled.
Six's eyes darted up just in time to catch a shadow moving across a rooftop. Whoever it was, they weren't NCR or a King. This was someone else entirely.
And they were making damn sure this fight wouldn't stop.
Six let go of Pacer's lifeless body and grabbed his rifle.
"Rebecca, cover me! I'm taking that bastard down!"
Six moved quickly, weaving between covers as he sprinted toward the base of the building where the sniper had fired from. His heart was racing, his mind calculating his every move.
The sniper couldn't have gotten far; if he took a shot at Pacer and hadn't been immediately exposed, he'd either be planning another shot or preparing to make an escape.
The sound of gunfire from both sides continued to echo around him, but Six was focused solely on the rooftop. His Observation Haki told him this was the source of the escalation. Someone had intentionally stirred the pot, and he was going to find out why.
McCormick shouted at his men, trying to organize some form of defense against the chaotic firefight, but Six wasn't paying attention to him. His eyes locked on the shadow he'd seen, now moving again—clear signs of someone shifting positions. The sniper had made the fatal mistake of moving too much.
Six ducked behind a nearby cart, quickly scanning the rooftop. He saw the telltale glint of a scope—a second too late as the sniper adjusted their aim, almost locking eyes with him through the crosshairs.
"Shit."
Six muttered under his breath.
He wasn't about to let this one slip by.
Six leveled his pistol, taking a steady breath. His finger brushed the trigger, but he didn't fire yet. Instead, he watched for the tiniest movement, the twitch of the sniper's body that would give away the location. Then, just as the sniper's rifle lifted once more, Six fired.
The crack of his Dessert Eagle echoed through the air, the bullet racing toward the sniper. A soft yelp followed by a grunt signaled a hit. The sniper slumped forward, his rifle falling off the edge of the rooftop.
But Six wasn't done yet. Using Moonwalk he sprinted toward the base of the building, his boots pounding the cracked pavement. The sniper wasn't going to be able to move for long, and Six was damn sure he wasn't going to let whoever was behind this walk away.
He reached the building's side, and quickly climbed barely breaking a sweat, his superhuman body kept him going. Once at the top, he paused, scanning the rooftop for any movement. The sniper's body was still crumpled near the edge, his rifle at his side.
Six approached cautiously, not taking any chances. He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him upright, inspecting the fallen sniper's face. His features were masked with a face wrap and a helmet comprised of an aluminum helmet and a baseball cap, but it didn't hide the look of desperation in his eyes. Six yanked the face wrap away, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
It was a Legionnaire from outside Freeside—someone brought him in, and his guess was it was one of the Three Families. This wasn't just a random sniper attack. Whoever was behind it had resources, and now they were trying to manipulate the Kings and NCR into a full-blown war.
Six's mind whirled with the implications.
"Who the hell sent you?"
Six growled, his grip tightening on the mercenary's collar.
The man was too out of breath to answer, but his eyes flickered to the far side of the roof, where a small radio had been left behind. Six turned his head, catching the device. He reached for it, quickly tapping the frequency.
Static crackled before a voice came through.
"Did you get him? Is the distraction working?"
It was a man's voice, cold and calculating.
Six's eyes narrowed, and his voice was sharp as he replied to the radio.
"What the hell do you want with Freeside? Who are you?"
The Legionnaire's eyes widened in panic, but before he could say another word, a loud thud followed by the sound of a door slamming open echoed from below. Someone was coming up the fire escape.
"Time's up."
Six muttered, pushing the Legionnaires to the ground, his hand reaching for his sidearm.
The door creaked open, and Six ducked low, preparing himself for whoever was coming up the stairs. He had to end this now before things escalated even further.
A shadow moved in the doorway, followed by the heavy thud of boots against the rooftop. Six steadied his grip on his pistol, his nerves steel. The person who emerged wasn't wearing Legion colors, but instead, a dark suit with a crimson tie—Omerta.
Six cursed under his breath. That meant this was bigger than just a simple hit. The Omertas were deep in bed with the Legion, and if they were working together, it was a disaster waiting to happen.
The suited man took one glance at the fallen Legionnaire and immediately went for his own weapon, but Six was faster. With a sharp pull of the trigger, a suppressed round buried itself into the man's shoulder, sending him stumbling backward.
"Don't even think about it."
Six warned, stepping forward and kicking the man's gun away before pressing his boot against his chest.
"Talk. Now."
The Omerta gritted his teeth, clutching his wound.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Six."
Six leaned in closer, his eyes like daggers.
"Oh, I think I do. The question is, do you know what you just walked into?"