"Lucky, did it work?"
Dallas's voice came through Roqi's headset.
"Worked like a charm. How's your side lookin'?" Roqi answered in a bizarre accent from who-knows-where, watching the chaotic firefight at the Maelstrom base with a satisfied grin. "They're about two seconds away from knocking each other's brains out."
But really, it wasn't a battle—it was a massacre.
Respect Logistics' semi-autonomous drone force was absolutely butchering the Maelstrom crew. With high-ground firepower, bulletproof security bots, and tanks on wings, Maelstrom's firepower meant nothing. Their bullets barely scratched the armor.
All these automated security units had to do was lock onto the scrambling Maelstrom gang and pull the trigger.
"We've reached Rocky Ridge. You want us to swing back and pick you up? Though, uh, we'll need to swap this ride out first."
Dallas pushed open the door and stepped onto Rocky Ridge's dirt. While talking to Roqi, he silently directed his crew to move fast using hand signals.
This hideout was one of their safehouses—throwaway shelters they could vanish into. Unlike Maelstrom's base, it wasn't something anyone could trace and destroy in a single hit.
These half-finished ghost towns weren't just hideouts for them—they were sanctuaries for anyone operating in the Badlands.
"No need."
Roqi paused, then looked up at the two dark shapes streaking across the sky. His expression was a complex mix of excitement, tension, and adrenaline-fueled glee.
"Our drones just arrived."
MaxTac's Medusa Modular Combat Drones.
These drones weren't under his or Mower's command. Once called, Medusas didn't take orders from ground teams—they were under the direct control of the Extreme Force Tactical Division.
"Drones?" Dallas blinked, confused. He didn't remember that being part of the plan.
Then came the noise—background gunfire over Roqi's comms surged tenfold.
"Air support has arrived. Commencing engagement."
Screaming rockets. Vulcan rotary cannons. Bombs from above. Tech-charged railguns punching through anything that dared to call itself cover.
The Medusas didn't even glance at Roqi. They locked on to the coordinates and dove straight toward the Maelstrom base—unleashing a display of firepower that lit the sky like a New Year's rave.
Even if you had anti-air missiles, good luck finding the balls to use them. It'd be like trying to fight a freight train with a toothpick—while standing in front of it.
Still, the most stunned weren't the Maelstrom—it was the Respect Logistics troops.
They had been happily mopping up the gang until two flying fortresses ghosted in from above. Bigger than their own armored gunships. No pilots. No passengers.
Just payload.
And that entire massive payload? Nothing but weapons and ammunition.
This was Roqi's first time seeing a vertical barrage turn into a goddamn death waterfall.
But it wasn't dumb carpet bombing.
With top-tier fire-control systems and scan tech, the Medusas locked targets in under a second—both Maelstrom hiding inside and corp troops outside.
Then came surgical destruction.
Infantry? Shredded with rotary cannons.
Armor? Blown to hell with AP rounds and high-explosives.
Drones and remote tanks? Popped with railguns.
Congregated targets at the gates? White phosphorus.
Crammed full buildings? One aerial bomb = instant urban renewal.
Not even a full minute later—the battlefield was silent.
The twin Medusas had flipped, scrubbed, and sanitized the place with one coordinated burst.
No living targets remained.
Even the Respect Logistics' transport vehicles were reduced to smoking scrap.
"Area secure. No threats detected near objective. Air support complete. Returning to base. Good luck."
The Medusa's AI delivered the report in a cold, neutral tone—clinical, professional… chilling.
It sounded like it had just finished a casual errand.
"I get it now. Why they don't use these in the city."
Roqi was already standing, staring at the flaming ruins a kilometer away. His face was unreadable.
"You'll get used to it."
Mower held her rifle, unfazed.
She'd fought for Militech. Special forces. Trained for the Unification War. Then years working for corp black ops. She'd seen worse. Way worse.
Strategic missiles could wipe ten times the area of this base. Just one sighting could leave you mentally broken for life.
Medusas didn't carry that kind of firepower—but in terms of short-term devastation? Still terrifying.
And now, both Maelstrom and Respect Logistics were wiped out.
"Jesus, what the hell happened over there? I could hear it from Rocky Ridge!"
Chains called in—this time, not Dallas.
"Maelstrom hijacked and massacred a Respect Logistics convoy. MaxTac air support deployed. No survivors—including the corp troops."
Roqi swung onto his bike, heading toward the site.
"Fuck me! That loud, huh? Not even GENSEC makes an entrance like that."
"Wait for us at Rocky Ridge. We'll head into the city together to find Rogue."
Roqi got off the bike before reaching the base. He stepped over the scorched shells of corp vehicles, entering what little remained of the Maelstrom hideout.
White phosphorus still burned at one entrance, sending out ghostly smoke. Even from a distance, it stung his throat and nose. He coughed, glad for his helmet.
A massive piece of melted metal lay in the road—once a clean-cut drone chassis, now twisted and broken.
"Railgun hit."
Mower scanned the wreckage with her cyber-optics and shared the enhanced visual data with Roqi in real time.
He saw it too:
A gaping hole torn in the drone's upper armor. Jagged, flared edges.
The 3D scan mapped the internal path of the projectile—it pierced reactive plating, carved through the alloy, shredded the power chamber, and exited through the rear engine.
The shell fragmented inside, leaving multiple tearing paths. Some fragments were stuck inside the fuselage.
One shot. One kill. A proud Zetatech Octant blown apart.
Felt like watching a fifth-gen fighter destroy a fourth-gen one—completely helpless.
"Yup. All dead."
They did a full sweep. Not a single living soul.
The bots and drones left something like corpses. The humans? Charcoal and fragments.
Once, Roqi almost mistook a pile of blackened flesh for grilled ribs—until Mower pointed out it was a burned chunk of thigh bone.
"War is fucked."
Roqi coughed as he stepped outside.
The smell was pure nightmare fuel.
Mower just looked at him—once with a "duh," and once with a "yeah, but still."
Still, none of the dead were innocent. Roqi felt no guilt—only morbid curiosity. Mower? Ice-cold as ever.
The base was small. Even after such carnage, a few steps got you out.
Back in Central America, battlefield cleanup took hours—miles of wreckage, towns wiped off the map.
This? Child's play.
A few minutes later, Roqi and Mower roared down the highway, meeting up with Dallas's crew—who had already cleaned up all traces.
"Nice ride swap."
Roqi immediately spotted the new vehicles—clean, ordinary, nothing like the dirty Maelstrom rides they'd used.
Those were long gone—they'd served their purpose.
These new ones were forgettable. Perfect.
Twenty people total. Six cars. Two vans.
They now looked like a small delivery company blending into city traffic.
As for Roqi and Mower's MaxTac bikes?
Let's just say: no one blocked their path.
One look at Roqi's blank stare at a red light, and the most aggressive driver would suddenly remember how to be polite.
"Hey, Claire. I'm back."
Roqi strolled into the bar, relaxed. Mission accomplished. All smiles.
"Someone's in a good mood. Score big?"
Claire gave him a knowing smirk.
"Not really. Just saw some dumbasses get wrecked. That always makes me happy."
He meant Maelstrom and Respect Logistics.
He grabbed a menu and skimmed.
"Mojito. Light on the booze. Heavy on the ice. Mint."
"Knew it. You're not a drinker."
Roqi was a regular—but not a drunk. He came here to chat and trade info with Claire, Rogue's personal bartender.
Unless he was in a rush, he always grabbed a drink before or after meeting Rogue.
Only a few drinks suited his taste. Mojito was one of them. Light, refreshing, and smooth as hell.
"I'll have the same."
Mower didn't even look.
"Of course. You always order the same."
Claire clinked ice into glasses and gave them a playful glance, then whipped up two perfect mojitos and set them on the bar.
Roqi raised his glass to her and chugged half of it.
"Ahh—so good!"
He downed it like a sports drink, crunching mint leaves with his tongue.
A ridiculous move—but one that had become his trademark.
"Thanks. Catch you later."
He walked through the bar, nodding at familiar and unfamiliar faces alike.
Somehow, he and Mower had become local legends at the Afterlife.
Mower stayed low-key. Never talked to anyone. Always moved with Roqi. Eventually, people just treated them like one unit.
"Aloha~"
Roqi pushed open the private room door.
"Yo, Hellman's here too."
The lounge was full of Rogue's top operatives—including Hellman. He'd finally accepted his fate as one of Rogue's research guys.
The pay wasn't great, and his freedom was limited—but his needs were met. Way better than running for his life every day.
Besides, if he didn't cooperate, Rogue had plenty of "gentle" ways to get compliance.
"That Seimei Kogei shipment came just in time. Their gear fits my research perfectly."
Hellman had entered full-on lecture mode—already rambling.
"Sit down. We've got time."
Rogue waved Roqi over.
But Roqi was busy tapping his PDA.
"What is it?" Rogue asked.
"Nothing. Some idiot tried to steal my ride."
He pocketed the PDA and flopped into the couch.
"Defense system handled it."
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🤖💘 MY GIRLFRIEND'S A CYBERPSYCHO—WHO KNEW? 💘🤖
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📢 LOVE MEETS CYBERPSYCHOSIS! 📢
My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew? has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! 💘💥
Romance is already complicated.
Now add:
🌃 Night City
🦾 Cyberware
🔫 Gunfights
💀 Cyberpsychosis
💥 Property damage
❤️ And a girlfriend who might snap at any moment
Love hurts.
In this case, it might also come with bullets, broken walls, and emergency trauma care.
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🧠 My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator
🛡️ Star Wars: The Rise of Mandalore
🌌 Star Wars: Relics of the Past
🏰 Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort
⚡ The Rebirth of Harry Potter
🌹 R18: Reincarnated in Her World
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