Mierda, the pace these people move, that breeding program will have doubled the population by the time they get started.
He assembled his rifle while whistling a tune through his teeth and slammed in a clip of Stick and Shocks, which he'd bought especially for his new job. When he'd bought them he had finally understood why 'runners sometimes preferred to keep a low profile, the ammo had been ridiculously expensive.
He watched the guard through magnified vision, an AR crosshair formed over the guy's chest. He held his breath and adjusted his aim, the rectangle shrunk until it had formed a dot dead center over the guard's heart.
BANG, muerto.
Sucking through his teeth, Rafa lined up his next shot. Some kind of bovine-related animal. He centered where the heart would be. BANG, muerto.
He scanned the park for his next imaginary victim. A couple of minutes later, most animals that hadn't been put into their cages were dead in the ganger's mind. Hunting was fun. It sucked having to fake it, but at least it killed the time.
Comms: "What about the crew and cops? They're there, we're elsewhere.
I say I get on top of the roof, fuck up their cameras, then you... mobility-challenged people can come with a van pretending to come fix them when the spider calls for help. If you can jack into their comms of course, but I heard every 'runner group's got a techhead, no?
Doc, where's the spider's lair in the park? Maybe I can take him out after he's let you in."