"Hey, Regina? It's Lucky."
Roqi, wearing a brand-new pair of Bluetooth earbuds, kept scrubbing his hands under a stream of clean water.
The water came from a bottle that Mower was holding.
Speaking of water—although both bottles were technically safe to drink, the Pure Water brand was inexplicably dozens of times more expensive than the generic one Roqi was using just to wash his hands.
"Tell me you're about to deliver good news," Regina said. Her voice was slightly more upbeat than usual. Seemed like she was in a good mood.
"Jotaro Shōbatsu, he..."
Roqi suddenly remembered Regina's strict instructions and hesitated awkwardly.
"He ran... didn't he!?" Her voice jumped in pitch, then she exhaled. "Well, whatever. At least you trashed his place. Next time we catch that bastard, we'll deal with him properly."
"Not quite."
Roqi gave a sheepish laugh.
"It's just... he might be hard to recognize now."
Regina was caught off guard. "Hard to recognize? What do you mean? Facial surgery? A sex change?"
"I might've gone a little overboard and kicked him into a generator. Took a while to scrape him out. He... uh... got kind of charred."
"Charred..."
No doubt Regina was wearing her classic "looking silently at the ceiling" expression.
"Alright, alright. Dead or alive, it doesn't matter. Client's willing to pay either way. The Mox are footing the bill anyway," Regina said with a chuckle. "Speaking of which—didn't you just score a fortune? Why are you still picking up gigs?"
"You know what they say—idle hands. Besides, just sitting at home doing nothing drives me nuts."
Roqi laughed.
Of course, that was only part of the reason.
In Night City, it really was swim or sink.
Sometimes that kind of talk sounds like motivational fluff. But in this city? It was gospel.
Every day, droves of people arrived chasing dreams, fame, or a better life. For every one person that fell, ten more lined up to step over the corpse. Every industry was the same.
Even mercs—especially mercs.
Good subdermal armor fetched insane prices on the black market. Staying alive wasn't cheap.
"Stay safe out there. Job was clean, the client's happy..." Regina paused. "Wait, new request just came in. They want that bastard's corpse hung up and a photo sent. They'll pay extra."
"Oh. Uh, sure. No problem. Haha..."
Roqi laughed a little too hard and quickly ended the call.
Then he stared at the pile of roasted meat that had once been Jotaro Shōbatsu.
"Shit. I'm screwed. That doesn't even look human anymore. How the hell do I hang that up...?"
He clutched his head, panicking.
Roqi swore—after confirming the guy was Jotaro—he had only kicked him once.
But apparently, this Walkman tech was the real deal. Not only did it give dynamic recoil stability for shooting, it massively boosted physical performance.
Put simply: Super Jump.
His explanation to Regina? A little dramatized. But otherwise? Accurate.
So here's the Night City riddle of the day:
How many steps does it take to kick Jotaro Shōbatsu into a generator?
"Alright, let's get this thing up."
Roqi grabbed a plastic bag, wrapped it around what was left of Jotaro's ankle, and dragged him downstairs like a mop. His skull bounced off each step with a hollow thunk, like an overripe watermelon.
Minutes later, at street level—
"Mower, think this looks okay?"
Roqi took a few steps back, inspecting the setup.
"Looks fine."
Mower nodded, arms crossed.
Right outside the club, Roqi had propped up an iron frame he'd hauled from the warehouse.
Jotaro, still in his now-blood-soaked suit, was strung up like meat.
It was a gory scene. Several pedestrians screamed and fled at the sight.
To the untrained eye, it looked like two cyberpsychos staging an art piece.
"Put down your weapon! Cease resistance!"
A sharp shout came from behind—sudden and commanding.
Roqi raised his hands slowly and turned around.
Facing him was a MaxTac officer clad in heavy armor, wearing a Kenshin external optic, violet energy coursing through his gear.
"Hey, hey, chill. We're not cyberpsychos," Roqi said calmly, not a flicker of hostility on his face.
"You slaughtered an entire club," the officer snapped. "Drop your weapon! Final warning! Any further resistance will be met with lethal force!"
"..."
Roqi glanced at Mower. He moved slightly to scratch his head—then froze as the muzzle pointed at his face.
"Don't move!"
"You want me to drop my weapons and not move? That's a bit of a paradox."
Roqi chuckled. "You don't seem like the usual MaxTac. Most of them skip the talking part."
"Cut the crap and follow orders!"
This guy wasn't here for games. He stuck strictly to protocol.
"You seem reasonable, so I'll cooperate."
Roqi sat in a nearby chair, casually popped open a drink, and took a sip.
"You know this place? Phoenix Club on Allen Street?"
"What's your point?"
The officer paused. Roqi's calm tone and clear logic threw him off just enough to lower his weapon a hair—a rare move for MaxTac.
Even NCPD was "shoot first, ask later."
"That guy? Jotaro Shōbatsu. Tiger Claw scum. A sick fuck who made black BDs—torture, rape, murder. At least seventeen confirmed victims. Who knows how many more."
"The whole building was full of trash just like him. You know what I found on his drives? Tons of raw black braindance footage."
"Still doesn't justify a massacre. If you know what's good for you, cuff up and come quietly."
"If you can find even one innocent civilian corpse in that building, I'll surrender."
Roqi grinned.
He and Mower had cleared the place clean. Civilians fled early. Only Tiger Claws remained. Sure, he'd used a katana, and yeah, it got messy—but that was art, not murder.
"Target confirmed! Neutralize all threats!"
Just as the officer was about to report in, another voice barked from behind.
"They're not—"
The rookie barely turned before a blur passed him.
The Inspector!?
His instincts screamed. He raised his Saratoga.
In an instant, Roqi and the Inspector were locked in brutal melee.
The woman? Gone.
She may have looked stylish—tight leather jacket, skintight pants—but her build and movement screamed combat-grade implants.
Then everything froze.
A shadow dove from below with a shrieking gust. He activated his Sandevistan. Bullet time engaged.
Too late.
An unimaginable force struck his wrist. His weapon flew. Fire flared. He tumbled meters back.
Thank god his right arm was titanium. Otherwise? It'd be gone.
In under 100 milliseconds, he was back on his feet, blade drawn.
But his opponent? Way faster.
CLANG—
His combat knife clattered to the ground.
Sewage trickled nearby. Flies buzzed.
A heap of trash exploded. A metal fence crumpled.
The rookie flew into the debris.
From his blurry vision, he saw a terrifying figure charging at him, screaming "WAAAAAGH!"
CLANG!
Out in the open, Roqi retreated rapidly, katana flashing, barely holding off twin Mantis Blades from a MaxTac brute.
CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG!
CLANG—BANG!
Pushed to the edge, Roqi planted his foot on the wall and launched a twisting counterattack.
The wall shattered. A perfect boot mark embedded in the stone.
"Fuck—you again!?"
He recognized her.
That lunatic from Konpeki Plaza.
Same strength. Same technique. Same murder-happy glare.
CLANG! SLAM! SMASH!
Roqi gripped his katana tight, countering every slash.
Thanks to his Walkman leg augments, he stood unshakable.
But she was a monster. His attacks barely made a dent. Hers? Nothing but pure force.
SHRRK!
Her blade stabbed where he'd just been. The wall cracked like tofu.
Another close call.
"FUCK! We're not even cyberpsychos! Why the hell are you trying to kill me!?"
She didn't answer—only attacked.
Her Mantis Blade slashed through the air.
Last time, she nearly killed him but left meds.
This time? Not even a word. Just death.
This woman was insane.
He saw it—beneath that Kenshin visor, the eyes of someone who wouldn't hesitate to kill.
SLASH—
His shirt tore. A centimeter closer and he'd be gushing blood.
But he grabbed her wrist.
BOOM!
Her left blade halted.
Roqi twisted and delivered a devastating kick to her gut.
Everything happened in a blink.
CRASH! SMASH!
Roqi flew backward into plastic chairs. His sword hit the ground.
Across the lot, a green Beetle was launched, tires squealing two meters back.
Close-quarters round one: Roqi wins.
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🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
📢 Cyberpunk Alert! 📢
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