[Johnny Silverhand, you've got three stops to make.]
Roqi counted them off on his fingers.
[One: Anders Hellman, lead designer of the Relic. He defected to Kang Tao—might know how to get you out.]
[Two: the Voodoo Boys. They're using the Relic to track down Alt. They're in Pacifica, and I bet they know more than they're letting on.]
[Three: Rogue. Night City's top fixer. Owner of the Afterlife. Also, wait a minute—]
Roqi raised an eyebrow and asked with mock shock:
[Did Rogue really take part in the 2023 Arasaka Tower raid? She was your teammate?]
He recalled the legendary tale of Rogue and her exploits from fifty years ago.
Legendary merc. Cyberpunk icon. Queen of the underworld. World-shaker.
She had more titles than you could list. Jackie's obsession with the Afterlife made a lot more sense now.
"You hear that? The heart of Night City beats right here—nonstop."
"Can you believe it? Susan Forrest, Old Snake, even Morgan Blackhand—they all sat here, drank here, passed out on this bar."
That's how Jackie introduced V to the Afterlife.
That excitement—hope—was the first real step toward the future.
Roqi had once read about the Arasaka bombing. It involved a place called "Atlantis," a hub for Night City's underworld and a staging ground for resistance. Thanks to the few media outlets that escaped corpo purges, some history had survived.
The Atlantis crew included Rogue, Morgan Blackhand, and Johnny Silverhand himself.
[Bottom line—we start with Rogue.]
Johnny wasn't in any rush to deal with the Voodoo Boys or escape the PDA.
He knew Rogue was their best shot.
[No objections from me. What about you two?]
Roqi looked at Mower, who nodded calmly.
"Let's talk to Rogue. Things have gotten too chaotic lately," V agreed with a yawn.
"Where were we with Evelyn and the Voodoo Boys?" Roqi asked, frowning.
"They had Evelyn record a braindance of Yorinobu's penthouse. Wanted to study the layout and security," V said, the sound of cars rushing past on his end.
"But Evelyn decided to run the job herself."
"She contacted Dex behind everyone's back—ditched her employer, tried to cut out the middleman, and split the profits fifty-fifty with us."
"Wait... where would the Voodoo Boys get that kind of money?" Roqi's eyes widened. "No—of course! They never intended to pay us!"
"Exactly."
V sighed. "She must've found a new buyer, but we'll never know who."
Damn.
Even now, after everything, Roqi felt the sting of betrayal.
From the start, their payday was a fantasy. Evelyn must've made a deal with someone powerful—someone willing to pay real money.
But could you really blame her?
If Konpeki had gone wrong—if they'd lost friends, lost lives—Roqi wouldn't be so calm. He'd be out for blood.
Evelyn had been broke, barely scraping by. High-end doll or not, she was still just a toy. This gig was her one shot to break free.
T-Bug wanted to retire, buy a beach house, live in peace.
Dex wanted a comeback—reclaim his empire.
Jackie and V wanted to be legends.
Roqi didn't give a damn about being a legend. He just wanted to save his crew. Pay rent.
And Mower? She just wanted to repay a debt.
In the old timeline, things ended in blood and fire. But now? They were still alive, watching the sunset.
Not bad.
Actually... screw that!
Once they found those damn Voodoo pricks, Roqi was gonna string them up and flick their junk till they screamed!
He scowled.
But then—those small hands again. Mower gently touched his arm.
He turned. Her soft hair brushed his cheek as she leaned quietly against him.
She had this strange, grounding effect. Like she could calm even a storm.
"Come on. It's late. Let's get dinner."
Roqi stood, oddly at peace.
A day without killing or running for his life... walking the streets like this felt good.
From Japantown, through Kabuki, back to Little China—it was all familiar ground. His home might be gone, but memories didn't fade.
They found a clean-enough noodle stand and sat at the bar.
Mostly, Roqi talked. Mower listened.
Her past few years didn't leave much room for fun stories.
The vendor dropped off two steaming bowls of stir-fry. Mower handed Roqi a pair of split disposable chopsticks.
"I don't have anything on me, alright?!"
Roqi had just taken a bite when someone behind him shouted.
"We didn't say you did."
"Where were you when the Tyger Claws came through? Didn't see you searching them!"
The man's voice was rising, full of bitter rage.
Tyger Claws? A search?
Roqi turned to see a man and woman being hassled by two NCPD officers.
"Shut your damn mouth, punk."
The cop snarled.
Oh—NCPD? Never mind, then.
These guys were great at harassing low-level punks and terrible at taking down real threats.
As long as his food stayed bullet-free, Roqi didn't care.
"Look at you! Big heroes! Saving the world, huh?!"
The man kept yelling. It was starting to get annoying.
Roqi reached for the pepper and shook a little into his noodles. Mower took it next, added a pinch, and returned it.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, eating and watching the scene like a live show.
"Yao, shut the hell up!"
The woman snapped at her friend.
"You should listen to her," one officer said coldly, his face unreadable. Clearly not new to this kind of thing.
There was something familiar about the whole scene...
Roqi leaned back a bit, putting distance between them, and glanced at Mower.
That expression—stone cold.
The same look she wore when painting the walls with someone's brains.
"They're MAX-TAC," she said quietly, handing him a soda.
"Seriously? MAX-TAC?"
He took a sip and placed it next to his bowl.
MAX-TAC—the psycho squad. Cyber-ninjas with swords for eyes and guns that could shoot through tanks.
These two, though, looked more like elite beat cops.
"Regular units. Not frontline. Usually handle investigations and cleanup."
"Ohhh. Got it."
Roqi nodded, learning something new. He didn't know much about MAX-TAC's structure. But Mower, with her military background, knew a lot more.
So their weakest were stronger than NCPD's best? Fascinating.
"You think we don't see what you're doing? You hate us! Admit it!"
The man screamed, eyes bulging.
"Hate you?" the cop smirked. "Kid, nobody gives a shit about two turds."
"If they weren't being nice, he'd already have a few broken bones," Mower murmured between bites.
"Yeah… there are still a few good cops left in this city."
Roqi watched them finish up and return to their car, expressionless.
"Swear to protect justice—then realize it doesn't mean shit."
"That's how it is?"
He looked over. Mower had already finished her food and was shyly wiping her mouth.
Roqi glanced down at his half-eaten noodles.
"Low funding. No gear. Not enough staff. NCPD isn't rich like the corps, and they still have to maintain MAX-TAC."
"Corruption. Internal rot. Justice is half-dead," Mower said.
Still, some officers clung to their ideals—fighting to keep the city from plunging into chaos.
For them, the badge meant something. Their guns were for protecting people.
And when they showed up—gangs knelt, hands on heads.
People still called them, because in that barrel, there was still the last bit of warmth left in justice.
"At least MAX-TAC isn't full of invincible freaks," Roqi said, stuffing the last of his food down and belching.
A bit too fast.
"?"
Mower raised an eyebrow.
"Back at Konpeki, MAX-TAC showed up. I fought this insane chick."
He shivered a little, recalling the memory.
"She had this old-model exosuit with a thermal cannon. Battery exploded, and she just got scratched. We fought blade-to-blade—and I lost."
"You get hurt?"
Mower frowned.
"Eh, just a cut. She even tossed me a medkit."
Roqi still didn't get what her deal was.
"Felt like a destined duel, y'know? Like we were meant to fight... ah, forget it. Sounds cheesy."
He laughed at himself.
"Maybe not. Who knows what those maniacs are thinking," Mower replied. "Heard most of MAX-TAC is made up of converted cyberpsychos. Maybe not all—but a lot."
She wasn't intel, so that was as much as she knew.
As a special forces lieutenant, Mower could destroy a street solo—but in Night City's savage jungle, monsters like her weren't rare.
There was this ridiculously strong guy beside her.
And that MAX-TAC psycho chick...
Mower wasn't a colonel. She was a lieutenant. There was a reason.
The desire to become stronger... quietly bloomed in her heart.
She also felt guilty—for walking away that night.
It had seemed like the perfect time. No one noticed. Everyone distracted by Arasaka. Mission done.
But what if Roqi had died?
She didn't care whether she could beat whoever had beaten him.
She just didn't want to lose him.
"But hey, they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."
Roqi smiled.
He didn't notice the soda can Mower had just crushed into a disk with one hand.
"Come on. Let's hit the Afterlife. Drinks and business."
"No. Let's sit a little longer."
She suddenly hooked her arm through his, hiding her flushed cheeks behind a veil of black hair.
"…Alright. Let's stay a bit."
Roqi blinked, then smiled and leaned back beside her.
The WNS broadcast flashed across the nearby screen—loud ads and obnoxious horns everywhere.
But the wind?
The wind was sweet.
How adorable.
.
.
.
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
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