Night City isn't exactly small. This sprawling metropolis on the edge of Coronado Bay is much bigger than most imagine.
Back in 2023, after the Arasaka Tower bombing and the fallout from the nuclear detonation, residents scattered in all directions. That displacement laid the groundwork for today's chaotic population spread. Take Pacifica, for example—now seen as a lawless dead zone, it was once just an empty stretch of ignored land.
Now? Still a shithole. But hey, Kang Tao's been "reclaiming" some of it. Maybe it's not entirely hopeless?
Roqi walked through the crowded streets, absorbing the waves of people, fashion, styles—and losing himself in thought.
"Breaking news! A Militech laboratory in the City Center has been attacked. Eyewitnesses report heavy weaponry was involved. Let's take a look at footage recorded by the NCPD…"
The WNS headline slid across the screen, followed by a shaky, chaotic video feed.
Smoke poured into the sky. Fire licked up spilled CHOOH2 and cargo, feeding violent explosions. The scene looked like a battlefield.
Corpses of security guards and techs littered the floor. A few workers in orange hardhats cowered behind crates, visibly shaking.
"T-there was a maniac! She stormed in, guns blazing! All the CHOOH2 that arrived yesterday—blown to hell! Then the fire just... just wouldn't stop!"
The worker spoke like a frightened hamster. His eyes were sunken, hollow.
Only after a reporter dragged him to safety could he put together something coherent.
"What about security? Didn't they do anything?"
"Useless! All dead! I... I didn't even see what happened. She came in and—bam! Everyone gone. No one made it out!"
He was sobbing by the end.
The footage cut to the blackened, smoldering tower.
"Sources suggest the assailant may be equipped with heavily modified military-grade cyberware. Militech has not ruled out sabotage by rival corporations. A spokesperson promised the company will pursue justice for the victims…"
Roqi lost interest. Standard corpo PR drivel. No real substance.
But those bodies. That pattern. That style of carnage.
It was just like Konpeki Plaza—the bodies from the lobby, the parking garage… all shredded the same way.
Efficient. Ruthless. Lethal.
God, please let that be some black-ops team and not—
No. Who was he kidding?
It was her.
That crazy woman went from slicing up Arasaka to smashing Militech in two days flat.
The two biggest corps in the city. Hit. Just like that.
Mother of fuck.
Roqi sighed and looked up at the sky. If it were night, he'd be dramatically monologuing to the moon.
♪ "Anata to mainichi PONPON sasete ne~" ♪
♪ "Watashi wa anata no PONPON-chan nano~" ♪
His earbuds blared the overly cutesy ringtone.
Incoming call: MOIRE.
Gulp.
He swallowed like a cartoon cat and tapped the green icon, hand trembling.
Silence. No gunfire. No explosions. Just calm.
"Where are you?" Her voice was dry, hoarse. "It's done."
Roqi shut his eyes. Took a breath. Exhaled.
"Just left Vik's."
"Send location."
Short. Cold. Like he was the one who'd screwed up.
[Yo, yo, yo. Who's this one? New girlfriend?] Johnny popped into his mind, full of curiosity. [Let me check her out later. Lay that PDA on the table. I'll give her a proper review.]
[Fuck off.] Roqi rolled his eyes, heading toward a budget café in Kabuki. [You saw the news? Heard it? I'm pissed.]
[Anyone who shits on a corpo is a hero in my book. She's got style.]
Johnny clearly had popcorn for this drama.
By the time Roqi arrived, the café was quiet. He ordered two coffees, sat down at a clean table, and tried to look calm.
Time passed. Johnny shut up.
Then the door opened.
She walked in, sat across from him. Silent.
Roqi looked up.
She was dressed up—actually dressed up. Hair styled, makeup on point. A black tank top under a wild leather jacket. Tight pants over long legs. Her usual combat boots swapped for plain sneakers.
"And you are…?"
Moire looked away, lashes trembling. Bit her lip.
"What, Militech teaches charm school now?" Roqi raised an eyebrow. "Didn't think spec ops trained for seduction."
He sipped his now-cold coffee, grimaced, set it down.
Her cheeks flushed—but just as things got cute—
"You look so uncomfortable in that getup."
She exhaled awkwardly.
He looked her dead in the eyes.
"C'mere. Closer."
!?
She flinched, composure shattering.
Was she... blushing?
She leaned forward, just a bit.
"Closer. What, you shy now?"
His voice was… gentle. Too gentle.
Her HUD pinged: [Elevated Heart Rate Detected]
Stupid fucking Militech systems.
She bit her lip and leaned in further.
"Close your eyes… just a bit more…"
Her heart pounded. She shut her eyes and leaned in.
Roqi smiled innocently and patted her silky hair like a puppy.
SMACK!
"You dumbass."
Her eyes snapped open as he bonked her on the head.
"W-what the hell!?"
"You think sorry makes it better?" he scolded. "What you did was reckless. Insanely dangerous!"
"Sorry."
She snapped upright like a soldier, head lowered.
Roqi bonked her again. Hard.
Whack-a-moire.
Then he paused. He had no room to talk. Not after what he'd done at Konpeki.
Still, she sat there—head lowered, silent, guilty.
"Relax. Just getting fresh coffee. This one's crap."
She looked at him sharply as he stood.
He returned a moment later with two steaming cups.
"You don't need to act like that. I'm not some skeezy dude. You're Moire. Just be you."
"...Okay." Her eyes wavered, like ripples on a still pond.
"That lab—was that the one where they experimented on you?"
"...No. It was... where they tested... experimental cyberware…"
Her voice cracked like bad radio.
The betrayal. The agony.
The rage began to return.
Roqi reached over and gently squeezed her shoulder.
"You're okay now. It's just aftereffects. We'll go to Vik, get you something for it."
But she wasn't okay.
She looked up. Her pupils wild. Blood vessels streaked her eyes red.
"So… much… pain…"
That same voice. The one she had when they first met—when she'd rather die than endure one more second.
Her hands trembled.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Her hope cracked.
Everything beautiful—snuffed out.
Her gaze went hollow.
"Tch. Cry somewhere else, drama queen."
Some asshole in a yellow hoodie walked past with his coffee.
Welcome to Night City.
"Moire, wait—!"
BANG.
Too late.
Moire moved like lightning. One punch. The guy flew across the café.
His shoulder shattered. Almost broke his spine.
If Roqi hadn't been holding her back, she'd have caved his skull in.
He didn't care.
Idiots like that didn't last long here.
People died in the street for less.
This is Night City.
"Delamain! Get your ass over here!"
He clutched the raging Moire like a human straitjacket.
If he let go, half the café would be meat paste.
Goddamn, she was strong!
His bones creaked under the strain.
This wasn't romance. This was damage control.
She was slamming into him like a brick-filled washing machine on high spin.
Or a gyroscope about to launch into space.
Delamain, I swear to fuck—get here NOW or I'm DONE!
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