mess of cyberpunk i guess

As you sprint through the ruined shopping center, you reflect that you've always done your best thinking under pressure. Like that time during your bot control aptitude test when you flattened an entire city block by exploiting a bug in the sim's gravity. Or now, as you run for your life from an army of killer robots. You leap over a mangled escalator, the servos in your exosuit whirring, and land on the far side with a thunk of your metal boots. Behind you, the clacking and thudding grow louder. They're gaining. You run faster. You don't have a choice. The Plex depends on you. You slide under a collapsed girder, sparks flying off your suit. This place. Megamall One. You shove past a pile of rubble. Temple of consumerism. Most profitable site in all capitalism. Now a bombed-out battlefield. And even more profitable this way. Your bot squad falls into formation behind you. Through your neuralink, each is a familiar presence in your mind. You check your HUD. Not much further now to the exfil point with Red. "Sweden !" comes a familiar voice through your com. Stryker. Your friend and mentor turned nemesis. "Surrender now. Return the data and I'll take you to your family." You know better than to listen. Damn it, they're closer than you thought. You're not going back to that VR cell. Not a chance. You keep running, keep thinking. If a mall turned battlefield is a profit center, what's a whole city turned warzone? A metropolis-sized profit-machine fueled by destruction and reconstruction. All straight to the bottom line. You must be getting close now. "Winters, status on the rendezvous point?" you bark into your com. Winters' cool voice responds, a hint of strain in the bot's usual calm. "No sign of Red or her team, boss. Those kill-sats are coming back online. Our window is closing rapidly." You curse under your breath. You need to slow them down. "Gang, we need a diversion. Ideas, now!" Rambo's voice booms in your head. "WE FIGHT, BOSS! SHOW THESE CORP PUPPETS WHAT REAL CHAOS LOOKS LIKE!" Joker chimes in. "Oh yes, because nothing says 'successful defection' like going out in a blaze of glory." You round a corner and skid to a halt. A sleek, corp-issue exosuit stands before you, flanked by a squad of pristine combat bots. Your heart sinks. You know that suit. "Sweden ," Stryker's voice drawls, no longer over the com but right in front of you. "Going somewhere?" You freeze as he raises his pulse rifle. "It never was enough for you, being the token human in our system. You had to call the shots. And look where that's gotten you." Your mind races. Where the hell is Red? "I've learned some new re-education techniques, you know," Stryker continues, his tone mockingly casual. "Maybe we'll let your family watch. Might keep them in line." A shriek of tearing metal rips through the air. A figure in a crimson exosuit crashes through a nearby wall, landing between you and Stryker in a shower of debris. Red. She rises slowly, her exosuit gleaming like fresh blood. "Sorry I'm late," she says. "Had to take a detour. Picked up some... reinforcements."