"I'm good on my end. When do we head out?"
Roqi slapped his thigh after reviewing the initial battle plan, along with the execution scheme that included both his and Mower's suggestions.
"If you're ready, we can move now," Rogue replied casually, taking a sip from her drink.
From Roqi's repeated observations, Rogue never consumed even a drop of alcohol during planning. Not until everything was finalized.
"But there's no rush. We can wait until morning. I've already got people keeping an eye on the place. If anything changes, we'll know right away."
Rogue's confidence came from power—and hers was the kind that left no room for doubt.
"I'm going with sleep," Roqi said immediately. "But… while we were investigating Evelyn's braindance, I came across some info on the Voodoo Boys."
In theory, Evelyn had been nothing more than a tool for the Voodoo Boys—hired to film a braindance inside Yorinobu Arasaka's penthouse.
The rest—stealing the Relic—was all on them.
Their goal was simple: use the engram of Johnny Silverhand, stored inside the chip, to find Alt.
A group of cryptic netrunners trying to locate a digital soul floating in the Net?
That was the prevailing theory among experts.
Alt Cunningham—Johnny's ex, cyber-programming genius, creator of Soulkiller, classic victim of Arasaka blacksite detention. She had almost certainly been uploaded to the Net.
But from how the Voodoo Boys spoke, Alt didn't seem to be under Arasaka control. She was out there—reachable, but not easily.
Wiping out the Voodoo Boys now would mean losing any chance to understand their reasons, the truth they might know, and any hidden consequences.
Roqi shared his thoughts with Rogue—and was met with silence.
Visibly, her expression turned sour. Not at him, but at the situation.
Rogue never played games with her crew. Sure, she liked dry sarcasm, but when it came to serious matters, she was honest and blunt. Her face said exactly what she felt.
And that look?
Her Royal Highness was pissed.
Johnny was a bastard—a rockstar-grade bastard since 1988.
Alt had been his girlfriend. So had Rogue.
Womanizing rock god? That was Johnny to a T.
Yeah, it was ancient history. But bring it up in Rogue's face, and you'd be picking teeth off the floor.
There was no Alt—only Rogue.
That was her stance.
But not wanting to talk about it didn't mean she'd ignore something important. If anyone was messing with the Relic or Johnny's engram, and Rogue knew about it? She was going to do something.
"I don't know. Talk to that asshole yourself."
After a quick call, one of Rogue's merc teams brought in a secure case.
Inside was Roqi's beat-up but solid PDA. They hadn't removed the chip—too risky for Johnny's engram.
The Bluetooth had been replaced with a network module, giving Johnny real-time comms like someone with a neural socket.
[So this is why I got dragged back? Of course it's you.]
Johnny's voice carried that trademark "I'm ready to start a fight" tone.
Not personal. Just Johnny being Johnny.
"Technically, this is your business."
Roqi rolled his eyes.
Rogue always paid on time and in full. She didn't care about format, only results. But Johnny? Always sounded like someone owed him a punch in the mouth.
You got used to it. If not, it was like having a cyber-fly screaming in your ear 24/7.
"Old man's about to work for you. Say 'thanks, Dad.'"
Roqi fired first—verbal kill shot.
[Fuck off. One job and now I'm your son? What, you want me calling you Grandpa next?]
"Hey, watch it, brat."
Roqi didn't miss a beat.
Hadn't seen this old bastard in a while, but somehow the moment they reconnected, the swearing flew naturally.
But with Rogue clearly seconds away from ejecting both of them, Roqi shifted gears.
"We're going after the Voodoo Boys. Got anything to say, Mr. Silverhand?"
[Shit. You're asking questions I don't even have answers to.]
Johnny groaned.
[Those assholes only showed up in Night City the last few decades. I was still floating half-dead in the data pool, memory fried. Nothing.]
Johnny's memories had been locked down until the Relic was activated. His consciousness—suppressed.
Only when Roqi plugged the chip into the PDA and patched it with the system had Johnny really come back—in this strange, half-digital form.
"Fine, so you don't know what dumb shit they've pulled. But you know Alt, yeah? They're trying to use you to find her."
"They know about the Relic, your presence in it, and Alt's whereabouts—at least roughly."
Even saying it gave Roqi chills.
The Voodoo Boys were shady—and skilled. Real netrunner power. Corp-level threat.
They probably hacked Arasaka for it.
And it wasn't shallow info—they had detailed files on the Relic.
If Saburo hadn't suddenly shown up and gotten killed by Yorinobu, the Voodoo Boys and NetWatch might've already torn each other apart over this "corporate secret."
Suddenly, two factions barely present in Roqi's personal story came into sharp focus.
That's the risk of seeing the world from a first-person lens.
For a merc gunning for the top, it was a fatal flaw.
[…]
Johnny, for once, went quiet.
Normally he'd curse and ask for time to think.
Not this time.
He was thinking—really thinking.
[I wanna know why.]
He finally spoke, addressing both Roqi and Rogue.
[What the fuck are they planning? What kind of dirty game are they playing?]
He seemed like he wanted to sigh—but his pride was ironclad. What he really wanted was to smash their heads in.
[If I weren't stuck in this damn chip, I'd show up in person, bash in their doors, and ask their boss what the hell they want—while standing on his head.]
"But you don't have arms or legs right now, remember?"
Roqi interrupted.
"Since we're friends, just give me your take. I'll consider it."
[Aww. How thoughtful of you.]
Johnny snorted.
[Spare the boss. Or someone who knows something. Tell them if they don't spill everything, they're going in the ocean.]
That wasn't a figure of speech.
Night City's water was so toxic it couldn't be used for desalination, and anything living in it was a biohazard. Touching it was risky.
But yes—there were still fish.
Weird, mutated ones. Grotesque.
Mower once said that in corp politics, "deep-sea disposal" was still a tradition—just not in the actual armed forces.
"Got it. Leave someone alive, get the truth, then maybe use 'em for fish food."
Roqi nodded and added that to the plan.
[Then kill the rest. Dead weight.]
Johnny added coldly.
"What's your call?" Roqi asked Rogue.
Maybe because Johnny hadn't said Alt's name, Rogue didn't seem too annoyed. She gave a slight nod—like a queen granting approval.
"Oh, and prep this list for tomorrow."
Roqi pulled up a short document on his PDA.
Rogue scanned it and passed it to her people. "Have it ready by morning."
With everything in place, Roqi and Mower nodded at each other, said their goodbyes, and left.
They found a hotel that was just clean enough and crashed for the night.
The night before a major op is always weird—either endless or gone in a blink.
This one? Gone before they knew it.
-
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MY GIRLFRIEND'S A CYBERPSYCHO—WHO KNEW?
🤖💘 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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