Roqi was peacefully asleep on a crescent boat made of banana leaves, drifting through a glittering, "bling-bling" elven realm, gliding past towering trees.
Then a renovation crew showed up next door.
DONG DONG DONG DONG…!
BANG BANG BANG BANG…!
CLANG CLANG CLANG…!
A symphony of reinforced concrete and chaos—except Roqi, rudely yanked from dreamland, was in no mood for music.
A holo-display blinked on above his bed.
Time: 04:21 AM.
"NGGGAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
"WHO THE HELL MAKES BOBO CHICKEN AT THIS HOUR?!"
Roqi: (╯°Д°)╯!!!
Yeah—morning Roqi was not a fan of mornings.
"Lucky, heads up! Arasaka's coming for you!"
V's voice crackled through the headset.
Wait… headset? Roqi suddenly realized he'd slept with it on all night. That explained the annoying pressure against his head.
"Oh, Arasaka? Cool, got it." He yawned, walking to the sink. "Wait—did you say ARASAKA?!"
BOOM—!!!
Right then, his front door exploded inward.
Three chrome-domed goons with glowing red eyes stormed in.
Toothbrush cup in hand, Roqi turned and locked eyes with them.
"ターゲット出現,攻撃開始!"
("Target acquired. Commence attack!")
Ten minutes later.
Roqi—still in a thin shirt—sat in the backseat of a speeding convertible, Copperhead rifle in hand, firing madly behind them.
V rode shotgun, taking precise shots with Yorinobu Arasaka's golden Kongou pistol.
Jackie had the relic case between his feet, dual-wielding flashy pistols and blasting nonstop.
"Seriously?! Why the hell are you even here?!"
Roqi slammed in a new mag and yelled at the driver: Takemura Goro.
Yes, that Takemura—Saburo Arasaka's former bodyguard. The only man in Arasaka trying to prove Yorinobu was the real killer.
"I do not unnershtand wut ju are sayin'!"
Takemura's accent was a massacre. Hearing it made Roqi flash back to that awful sushi shop downstairs from his now-demolished apartment.
Oh right—his apartment was gone.
No one knew how many explosives those red-eyed bastards brought. The floor had collapsed, the ceiling had caved in, and two neighbors were killed in the hallway. Roqi barely escaped with a Copperhead rifle and Saburo's katana.
His custom pastel-pink DS1 Pulse Rifle? Gone.
The limited-edition Gundam model from his desk? Gone.
Worst of all, his Bobo Chicken × Fuyutsuki Electronics collab Bluetooth speaker? Obliterated.
Truly, a soul-crushing loss.
Consumed by rage, Roqi mounted the rifle on the convertible's trunk and let it rip.
RATATATATAT!!
Bullets sprayed the chrome assassins, sparks flying—but almost no actual damage.
Were their heads made of titanium alloy or what?!
Roqi cursed and ducked back in. Out of ammo. Not a single kill.
Was he giving them a massage or something?!
"Dexter's dead! How the hell did you find us?!"
"In Nightah Ciddee, there ees no one Arasaka cannot find!"
Takemura's confidence was absurdly smug now.
"Goddammit! You brought Arasaka hitmen to a civilian district! How many people are you gonna get killed?!" V shouted, returning fire.
He and Jackie had snuck home with the relic while Roqi was fighting MaxTac. They were gonna lay low—until Takemura kicked down the door demanding they testify against Yorinobu.
Then came the Arasaka assassin wave. Straight-up home invasion, floors one through five.
At least V's place hadn't exploded.
"We're in some serious shit," Jackie muttered, reloading. "But wait—you're Arasaka too. Why are they trying to kill you?"
"Zey are sent by Layshen to silence me!"
Takemura said through clenched teeth, his usual poker face completely intact.
Roqi sneered. "Yorinobu… betraying even his father's bodyguard. Cold."
"I am loyal to ze Arasaka family! But I will not let a murderer escape justice!"
Despite the ridiculous accent, his tone was serious enough to make Roqi think twice about cracking a joke.
This whole car-chase sequence was bound to happen. Takemura contacts V. Yorinobu sends goons to shut him up. Boom—instant carnage.
The only difference: this time it wasn't in a junkyard, dam, or the Santo Domingo highway. Now it was downtown Watson, right in Little China. And instead of a dying V and bleeding Takemura, the car held four fully armed survivors.
"Wait—where's Moer?! Wasn't she with you?!"
Only now did Roqi realize someone was missing.
It was 4AM, followed by BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-CRASH-CRASH, so his brain was still rebooting.
"She got out before we reached home. Said she had to handle 'personal business.' Said she'd contact you later," Jackie said, slamming his last mag into place.
What the hell was going on?
Roqi wasn't just pissed about the speaker—he was mentally fried.
Konpeki Plaza. No-Tell Motel. MaxTac. And now this. Not even a few hours of rest.
Okay, fine—the speaker loss was also part of it.
It was a limited collab! He'd entered three lotteries online just to win it!
Secondhand prices now? Insane.
Behind them, a red-eyed assassin on a muscle bike pulled up—locking eyes with Roqi and pulling out his mantis blades.
That was a challenge.
That was definitely a challenge.
"YOU SON OF A BITCH! DIE!!"
Grief turned to rage. Roqi drew his katana in one smooth motion.
"TASTE THE BLADE… OF BOBO CHICKEN NO KEN!!"
The assassin's head flew clean off—revealing a cybernetic spine and arterial tubing.
The bike rolled, hit a tree, and the cracked fuel tank exploded into fire.
"LOOK OUT!!"
V shouted, raising his pistol and firing at another assassin who had just ditched his bike and landed on the car's hood.
Takemura's vision was blocked, and the car fishtailed like a drunken eel down the street.
"FUCK—!"
Jackie hugged the relic case as mantis blades shattered the windshield.
The assassin clung to the hood like a roach on a window.
"You and your last pathetic breath, huh?!" Roqi growled, standing up in the car.
A single crescent slash split the attacker's shoulder open.
Sparks flew. Roqi followed with another horizontal slice—sending the bastard flying.
CRASH!
The assassin bounced across the pavement and landed in a heap of trash and broken glass.
"Phew…"
Roqi dropped back into his seat, drained.
"They're gone!" Jackie aimed but realized they were out of range and sat back down.
"Ugh… fucking Arasaka mutts…" V muttered, catching Takemura's oddly quiet glance.
The car continued down the road, passing through Watson's mostly empty early-morning streets.
And the NCPD, who should've responded to the gunfight and explosions?
…Yeah. Not happening.
.
.
.
📢 Cyberpunk Alert! 📢
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