"Whew—mission accomplished."
Roqi wiped the sweat from his forehead and let out a casual whistle.
Are all MaxTac officers this terrifying?
No wonder anything past four stars gets you flatlined on sight.
He stretched his aching limbs and winced. That last fight had been way too intense. He'd almost lost it.
Still, at least it was over—
CRACK—
A sharp sound behind him made his blood run cold.
He spun around—just in time to catch a flash of light.
CLANG—!!
It felt like getting slammed by a truck. The impact nearly tore his bones from his flesh as he was flung across the pavement.
His katana slipped from his grasp, clattering across the ground.
His head bounced off the concrete—definitely not a good time.
And the pain? Every bone in his body felt like it was about to fall apart.
Through blurry vision, he saw a smoking figure walking toward him.
Roqi squinted hard.
Her helmet had been blown off. Half her hair was scorched. Armor shredded. Her MaxTac uniform was practically rags.
She looked like someone tossed into an industrial blender and somehow walked away.
Even in that moment, Roqi couldn't help but chuckle.
"Hahaha…"
Yep. He actually laughed.
Her neutral expression immediately twisted into something pissed. Humiliated, even.
BOOM—!!
Concrete shattered under her stomp. She had just missed his head.
Roqi scrambled to his feet, breathing hard.
She wasn't here to talk. Every move she made was a kill shot.
"You wanna kill me, I wanna kill you. Fair's fair," Roqi said, cracking his knuckles and picking up Kaku. "Let's settle this—one of us isn't leaving."
CLANG!!
She agreed—by charging him straight on.
Roqi raised his blade and met her head-on.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Sparks flew like shooting stars with every blow.
In mere seconds, they'd exchanged dozens of hits—no holding back.
To anyone watching, it would've looked like two whirlwinds of steel tearing each other apart.
Each block was life or death. Each strike came inches from ending it.
Her mantis blades were quick, sharp, and brutal—like serpents coiled in darkness, striking without mercy.
But she wasn't a serpent.
She was a predator—something bigger, faster, deadlier.
She didn't just kill—she wanted to break you.
Roqi had never fought someone like her.
She wasn't just "tough." She was lethal. One slip-up, and he was done.
She ripped off the remaining half of her optical implants, tore off her armor vest, and screamed—charging him with zero hesitation.
CLANG—!
Roqi barely deflected the strike. His arms were shaking now.
She hit like a machine. His strength was fading fast.
He wouldn't last much longer.
CLANG—
Kaku spun from his hands and clattered to the ground.
He stood there, fingers trembling, still gripping empty air.
He opened his mouth to speak—then blood spilled from the corner of his lips.
An icy pain bloomed in his chest and gut.
SHHHK—!!
Her crimson mantis blade slid free.
Blood rained to the ground like crimson leaves.
Roqi hunched over... then collapsed.
"Can you feel it?" she said, sheathing the blade, not even looking at the blood. "Your blood's still flowing—but your life is already fading."
The night stretched on—rain falling steadily, washing the filth from the streets.
Her tattered clothes barely clung to her; beneath them was more scar tissue than skin.
She leaned against the curb, watching the neon skyline. With the adrenaline fading, the world felt cold again.
He was a good opponent. Not just an enemy.
She thought back to the fight. Her heart still beat faster.
She was like an addict chasing a high, a dying woman clutching a final hope, a moth diving into the flame.
In Night City, she had nothing left.
She turned back and walked toward Roqi's motionless body. Her eyes softened slightly.
He was the first person to ever laugh after seeing her full wrath.
It wasn't mocking. It wasn't cynical. It wasn't cold.
It was just... pure.
He laughed. In Night City. In front of her blade.
What a fucking weirdo.
Clack.
A green injector landed beside his ear.
"…Target lost. Repeat—target lost."
She left.
SHE'S FINALLY FUCKING GONE!
Roqi's death mask cracked. His face twisted like he'd just eaten garbage.
That "peaceful, dying expression"? Total act.
He wasn't dead at all.
Okay, yeah—her weapon was big, hard, fast, and brutal—and it hurt like hell—
BUT!
He was Roqi! He wasn't going down that easy.
Call it: "When shit hits the fan, play dead." Sun Tzu's 1551st tactic.
He just didn't expect that MaxTac freak to see through it instantly—and then still hand him a healing injector?!
Roqi dragged himself up slowly, grumbling, and slumped against the curb.
That woman was out of her mind.
Stab first, heal later?
Was that some Night City "Therapy Deluxe Edition" shit?
Roqi: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
He stared at the neon-green FullRestore in his hand, hesitated, then pocketed it.
Good thing V and the others left early. If they'd run into that lunatic, even Moelle would've gotten torn apart in seconds.
"Shit… the ground is freezing…"
Soaked in blood, rain, and pain, Roqi looked like a survivor dragged out of a warzone.
His stomach wound still stung, but his body was built different. He didn't even need Viktor—just a few hours of sleep, and he'd be fine.
That was his edge in Night City.
No plot armor? You're just XP fodder for the nearest gang.
How else do you explain Night City's –29.24% population growth?
Back at Konpeki Plaza, he'd even considered jumping in front of bullets for Jackie.
Good thing it didn't come to that.
So... now what?
He shifted to a slightly less painful position.
A private car turned the corner, spotted the aftermath, and immediately noped out.
Didn't even see the driver.
"Sigh…"
He sat there—next to the burning mech, the broken rubble, the blood-drenched street, and what remained of Dexter.
For the first time, Night City was quiet.
He liked the empty nights better than the polluted, suffocating days.
Craved a cola.
Craved some noodles.
Craved a hot shower and a soft bed, with a book before sleep.
"Yo, Del," Roqi called Delamain.
"Good evening, Mr. Elwyn Williams. How may I be of service?" Delamain answered cheerfully.
Roqi paused, glanced at his stomach wound, remembered what Delamain cabs looked like... and shuddered.
"Nope, never mind. I'll walk."
"Fuck this."
.
.
.
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