Even with electronically enhanced vision, Falcon couldn’t make much sense of what was going down. It looked like a major pitched battle, with shooters hunkered down behind parked cars and firing from positions on rooftops or from windows. There were at least a halfdozen bodies sprawled in the street, dead or so badly chewed they weren’t moving. Not shadowrunners, he didn’t think. The bodies and the live combatants Falcon could see had a kind of regimented sameness to them, like they'd come out of an identical mold. Corporate street ops? Megacorp soldiers? It seemed likely. He guessed that at least three factions were involved, yet he couldn’t be sure. Maybe somebody trained in small-unit tactics could understand what he was seeing, but Falcon was only a fragging gutterpunk ganger, for frag’s sake.