The long floating pier was lined with small shops.
If things had gone according to Pacifica's original development plans, these stalls might've become seaside vendors hawking snacks and drinks, or tourist shops selling exclusive resort gear to out-of-towners.
The ground they stood on had been designated as a prime beachfront location, once meant to become a "celebrity beach" in Night City's grand schemes.
But there was no seaside paradise here—only dark waters rolling in waves, and indiscriminate slaughter spilling out onto the docks.
Whether it was the already-gunned-down Tyger Claws or innocent locals, everyone fled in the same direction. Panic was a universal language.
From above, the fallen bodies looked like a red pen with its cap knocked off—each one leaving a smear, some long, some short.
Splurt—
That was the sound of a bullet tearing through a skull, mashing gray matter into pulp, and exploding it outward, splashing brain and bone fragments onto the ground like thick paint from a shattered canister.
Blood gushed like a busted faucet—unstoppable, steady. Not a flood, but more than enough to paint the pier red.
Yet two people surged upstream, against the tide of fleeing bodies—like fish braving a stormy current.
Using stalls and crates for cover, they crept closer to the far end of the pier.
The gunman hadn't spotted them.
Roqi pulled a grenade from his belt and pressed it into Mower's hand.
A smoke grenade.
Then he pulled out two more—one flashbang, one high-explosive.
Count with me.
Roqi gestured silently, mouthing the numbers.
Three…
Two…
One!
The moment the countdown ended, two spinning projectiles flew from their hiding spot.
The gunman spotted them instantly and dropped into cover with fluid precision—like a predator trained for war.
Pssshhh...
Mower's smoke grenade unleashed a torrent of dense fog, like it was connected to another dimension—one filled with endless mist.
BOOM!!
The HE grenade exploded, shattering wooden planks, cracking concrete, and flipping corpses like broken dolls.
But the target had already taken cover, crouched behind debris, waiting to counterattack.
He reached for his shotgun—
—but a flashbang struck him in the face.
BOOM—BWAAAAAAAMMM—
The detonation was less than a second, but his ears rang like a bell being slammed with a sledgehammer. The world blurred into white noise.
Not even cybernetic ears or eyes could shield him.
Once overwhelmed by intense light or sound, implants entered a "critical failure" state. They didn't shut down completely, but they became useless.
Still, he wasn't some weak punk.
A hit like that wouldn't finish him—
—that is, unless Roqi followed it with a rocket-assisted flying kick.
BOOM—CRASH!
A burst of speed. A jet-boosted strike. One devastating "Roqi Roundhouse" to the chest sent even the heaviest Arasaka riot armor flying.
Only a lamppost saved the man from tumbling into the ocean, though it bent under the impact.
His Arasaka HJSH-18 "Seihon" and Constitutional Arms M2038 "Tactician" shotgun clattered to the floor. Their owner now lay curled on the ground, groaning and clutching his side like a dying worm.
Roqi approached, expressionless. No mercy.
Bang!
Like a scene from an old Western, the man suddenly flipped a revolver and fired.
Muzzle flash burst. But the cylinder spun empty.
The shot was a blank. A last-ditch bluff.
And Roqi?
Gone.
Like a glitch in a holo-feed—he vanished before the trigger even fell.
BOOM!
Then came the counterattack—one brutal kick to the chin.
The shooter spun through the air like a broken doll, landing hard. His revolver skidded across the planks.
His cybernetic HUD flooded with red alerts. Damage to cranial implants. Visual glitches. Static and stars.
He didn't understand.
His skull was reinforced. It wasn't supposed to break like that.
Just one hit had caved it in. His thoughts felt scrambled, like his brain had been smashed with a sledgehammer.
Who was this guy?
Reinforcements from the Tyger Claws?
Didn't matter.
His target was the Tyger Claws. The bastards who'd destroyed his daughter.
But why was someone this strong here?
His body was failing him. Two hits—just two—and he was nearly broken.
This wasn't mental weakness. It was raw physics. Unstoppable force.
His gun was gone.
But his training remained.
As a former special agent, killing was muscle memory. He could weaponize anything.
He didn't just kill the Tyger Claws' leader—he tortured him slowly, letting him suffer before death.
The rest? Fodder. Even the ones who dared fight were gunned down.
But now he was unarmed.
They say a swordsman without his blade is nothing.
But he wasn't just a swordsman.
Even this monster could bleed. And if it bled…
He would find a way.
That was his code.
"Huff—BOOM!"
He forced himself up—only to be grabbed by the collar, yanked forward, then kicked again—hard.
CRASH!
He slammed into a pile of junk, toppling a rusted shopping cart.
He lay face-down on the cracked tiles, blood and spit drooling from his mouth.
It didn't make sense. The attacker had struck him from the front… and the back.
How could one person move like that?
His eyes couldn't track it. His brain couldn't process it.
Speed like lightning. Impact like a freight train.
Even if the guy was human—he was untouchable.
"Khff—cough!"
He coughed violently, spitting blood onto the ground.
Tap, tap…
Footsteps.
The boots stopped beside him.
He couldn't look up—his body was too wrecked.
"Tiago Ramirez."
The man said his name.
"Sofia Ramirez. Your daughter, right?"
Daughter…
The word hit harder than any kick. His chest clenched.
He tried to get up—but his lungs spasmed, sucking in air like broken bellows.
"Ghhhaaaah!"
He vomited blood.
"You lost your daughter," Roqi said, voice calm. "But your madness made other people lose their sons and daughters. Their spouses. Their parents."
He didn't need to finish him off. Tiago was already broken.
Roqi walked slowly through the corpses. Some were Tyger Claws.
Some were just civilians—unarmed, innocent, gunned down as they cowered.
All of them were shot with the same weapon.
Tiago wasn't just a grieving father.
He was a murderer. A monster. A cyberpsycho.
This wasn't crossfire.
This was deliberate execution.
"How do you expect me to feel sorry for you?"
Roqi turned, eyes cold.
Yes, the Tyger Claws had committed countless atrocities.
But Tiago's vengeance had bled into madness. There was no justification for mass murder.
He was just another soul driven insane by this city.
Another body added to the pile.
More innocent people, dead at the hands of someone who'd snapped.
No profound message. No moral lesson.
Just scattered feathers and blood.
Like frost under a winter moon, stretching down the road to the horizon.
"Should I call Regina?"
Mower asked softly, touching Roqi's chest.
She knew it hurt.
Regina had been collecting cyberpsychos for a while. Roqi and a few others knew. Not everyone had the skill to help.
Roqi stared at Tiago for a long time.
Then made the call.
"Hey. It's Lucky. Got a cyberpsycho at the floating pier, Pacifica."
"That so? Let me guess—more victims?" Regina replied dryly.
"His daughter was forced into prostitution by the Tyger Claws. I checked his messages—he killed a bunch of them. They tried to ambush him using her, but she was already dead. So he lost it. Killed everyone at the pier."
The Tyger Claws never stood a chance.
He was fully equipped—military-grade cyberware, top gear. He could've been a merc under Rogue.
"Figures. Real life's always a cruel joke. Alright, I'll send a driver."
"One condition," Roqi said suddenly. His voice dropped to a whisper. "After you're done researching him… kill him. He murdered too many civilians."
There was a pause.
"…Alright. If it's your request."
Roqi looked at Tiago one last time.
Letting him die… felt too easy.
If he could serve as a test subject, maybe it meant something.
BOOM!!
As Roqi stood beside Mower, facing the sea—
Tiago surged from behind, lunging for Roqi's back.
But a faster spinning kick caught him mid-motion.
He flew backward like a ragdoll, slamming into the junk heap again.
His face was a mess of blood and broken bone—but still he roared, feral and uncontrollable.
"Can't even control the urge to kill. Even at death's door."
"Classic cyberpsycho," Roqi muttered, turning back to the waves.
Far off, Pacifica still echoed with gunfire.
Smoke curled skyward like ghostly fingers.
The city never stopped bleeding.
-
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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.
Don't wait for the madness — read ahead now on Patreon!
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