Checkout

[TN:two chapter i owned on monday]

"Welcome back to Intel: Let's Talk. Today, we're discussing the bloody rampage that took place in North Watson."

"A five-day-long festival of gunfire—one that ended in a way you'd never expect."

"Night City's so-called heroes— 'MaxTac'—finally deployed at the last moment, only to have five AVs shot out of the sky.

Yeah, you heard me right. Those heavily armored air vehicles! The kind that can turn your house into rubble in under two minutes if they lock onto you."

[Sound of someone taking a sharp breath]

"Of course, this wasn't entirely MaxTac's fault—or NCPD's corruption—but hey, who knows? Maybe it was."

"Our so-called 'terrorists' seemed to have access to some military-grade tech… Not saying it's Militech, but let's just say, a certain company gave them some cutting-edge firepower. No wonder MaxTac got steamrolled."

"But here's the weird part—once those Manticores started dropping like coffin boxes from the sky, the chaos stopped."

"At the scene, they only found the lower halves of the instigators—yeah, just the lower halves. [Image] [Pixelated]"

[Disgusted sounds]

"NCPD claims they'll be able to reconstruct the full story from these body parts—

Which really puts new weight behind the phrase 'keep your lower half in check.'

After all, we all know the last NCPD deputy commissioner couldn't keep his in check."

"But seriously, why is it that NCPD is always tied up with lower-half problems?

If they keep spending tax money on their lower halves, we might as well just spend it on our own."

"At least we'd get some fun out of it."

[Laughter]

"That's all for today's Intel: Let's Talk. Remember—

The truth is always more complicated than it seems. See you next time."

This job isn't done yet.

Inside the warehouse, Brick and his crew were all strung up on the walls.

Losing feeling in your body was enough to drive anyone mad—but he didn't seem to care much. His only request?

A hit of Black Lace to take the edge off.

Meanwhile, Royce was tied to a pillar in front of him, his head wired up with a mess of cables.

A little freaky—

But hey, in Maelstrom territory, that barely qualified as weird.

In the next room, Leo disconnected from his neural link.

[Leo: Done. He's all yours.]

"Ptoo."

Brick spat a mouthful of machine oil right onto Royce's face.

"Ugh—fuck," Royce groaned, snapping awake in a haze of pain that seared through every nerve in his body.

"Didn't expect this, did you, you little shit?" Brick sneered. "Guess we meet again."

"Brick? You son of a bitch, I knew—"

"Knew what, you dumb fuck?"

Brick might've been immobilized, but the wall he was strung up on had a handgun mounted nearby.

No need for more words.

He simply pulled the trigger.

Royce's head exploded in a spray of blood, painting the dim warehouse walls.

And with that, the traitor was dead—

Maelstrom's civil war was finally over.

…But how many of them were even left?

Another head hanging from the wall—Carter—was starting to sober up, the Black Lace wearing off just enough to make sense of things.

"That's it?"

"That's it," Brick echoed. "Shit, but what the hell did we just fight so hard for?"

"The hell you mean? Respect, dumbass! Only an idiot would stay loyal to that psycho Royce!

We start fresh. Back then, Maelstrom grew from ten people to thousands. We ran it up from two—

Wait, no, three people to three thousand before, and we'll do it again!"

The third person, still struggling to form coherent thoughts, was Joestar—

Not that joining Maelstrom ever required much in the way of thinking.

Brick let out a sigh. "You're a real genius, huh… Hey, Joestar. Now that we're out, what do you wanna do?"

Joestar's expression was blank—his fried nerves and underdeveloped brain weren't ready for all this.

So, instinctively, he blurted out, "I dunno… find a chick to mess around with?"

"That's what's on your mind?" Brick scoffed, nudging a Black Lace inhaler his way.

Joestar caught it on reflex.

"Stick with me—chrome limbs, top-grade cyberware every damn day. You'll forget all about chicks.

Real men flex chrome. Only wimps chase tail."

[TN:A real Sigma mindset]

In another room, V shot a knowing glance at Leo.

Leo, fiddling with a linear frame, barely looked up.

[Panam: NCPD's here—with backup.]

Leo swept his tools and scattered components off the table.

Minutes later, Jefferson walked in, his face a complicated mess of emotions.

From the security feed, it was clear—outside this rundown apartment complex, NCPD flooded the streets with cars.

Up front, River and his partner stood, River repeatedly throwing glances at a security camera—

Trying to get Leo to check out the back of the convoy.

Sitting at the rear, a middle-aged man—calm, composed, and completely different from the other cops.

The kind of cold, calculating presence that only came with power.

A big player.

Back at the table, Leo motioned slightly, palm up. "Take a seat. Sorry if the meeting spot isn't exactly high-class."

"...That's not the issue."

Not high-class?!

Jefferson took one look around—walls covered in disassembled black-market cyberware, wires, servos, and motors everywhere.

Custom cyberlimbs dangled from the ceiling like a butcher shop.

He'd only ever seen meat slaughterhouses in pictures, but the sight of human parts strung up like this?

Unsettling.

Not to mention the walls—streaked with fluids of every color, covering old graffiti.

This was Maelstrom territory, through and through.

His gaze drifted past Leo, through the one-way glass—

Inside, heads hung from the walls. One was nailed to a pillar, freshly blown apart, brain matter still oozing out.

A fucking cult ritual.

"'Not high-class,' huh? You're modest as hell," Jefferson thought.

"Appreciate your… contribution to containing the riot. Funny thing—right after I put you on Maelstrom, all this happens."

"No need to thank me."

Leo, unfazed, casually waved off V and Jackie, who looked like they were this close to rolling their eyes.

Jefferson pressed on. "Didn't expect MaxTac to take that much damage. This whole mess has people's attention… But at least it's handled now.

I assume those are the Maelstromers in there?"

"Don't rush it."

Leo cracked open two cans of Spunky Monkey, pulling out a data shard. He flashed it at Jefferson before setting it on top of one of the cans.

A mech arm pushed the can across the table.

"First, let's close out our last deal. This has all confirmed kills—every single one had a criminal record or bounty."

...Huh?

Jefferson's brow furrowed. Something felt off.

The can scraped against the table, clanking as it slid forward.

"Total count: 1,073 targets.

Bounty sum: €$536,651.

Per contract terms—your payout: €$2,683,255.

But hey, big numbers, I'll cut you a deal—€$2,683,000 even."

...Huh?

...Huh??

...HUH???

Jefferson felt a literal question mark pop into existence above his head. His brain straight-up crashed.

"Wait—this can't be right."