[TN:Two Chapters for missing Tuesday]
The traitor's name was Radlilo, and right now he was lying on a hospital bed.
That day, he was the only one who survived—because he knew exactly where Wooly would burst out from. As soon as the fight started, he hid.
Even so, grenade shrapnel still pierced his skull, and he had to undergo a quick operation to remove it.
Now, a ripperdoc was performing a follow-up check on him.
Wearing a mask, the ripperdoc said:
"Recovery looks decent, but you'd better get a cranial repair to patch the wound."
"Do it!" Radlilo waved boldly. "I'm about to get rich, bro! Fancy chrome, wheels—you'll get your cut once I'm loaded!"
"Heh, your payments have been smooth lately. Don't die on me—where the hell are you raking in this cash?"
"Found a steady gig, don't ask. Once I find the right people to connect me, I'll be rolling in eddies!
Oh yeah, didn't you say last week you scored an authentic Kiroshi optic? Install it for me!"
"Damn, you really must be making bank. Lie down."
Radlilo reclined happily.
That's just how this city worked: with money, you could buy more chrome; with more chrome, you became stronger; become stronger, and you had everything.
In his mind flashed the image of a badass Mackniaw, with Legends fighting atop it.
That suffocating strength—he wanted to become one of them.
To be that strong, he needed money. Holt had money. Javier had money.
With those rich bastards behind him, he could get it too—lots of it.
The ripperdoc injected an anesthetic. But this time, it was different.
Radlilo's natural eyes had long been sold off, his optic nerves rewired to a cybernetic modulator. Normally, installing a new implant only required mild anesthesia and pain suppression.
But this dose was enough to paralyze his whole body.
At first, Radlilo didn't notice anything strange—until he saw the doc stand up, put away his tools, and start removing his coat.
Confusion set in. He tried to speak—but he couldn't.
His body was paralyzed. His cyberware shut down.
He was nothing but a lamb awaiting slaughter!
What the hell was the doc doing?! He was a regular customer!
Had the doc fried his brain on drugs? Got hooked on braindances? Owed someone money?
Was he being sold off to the Scavs?!
Clack.
The clinic door opened. Two NCPD officers walked in. His fear eased for a moment.
Everyone hated cops and corpo dogs—but in Heywood, Scavs were far worse!
No ripperdoc who sided with Scavs could ever survive in Heywood.
"That him?" one cop sneered, giving him a look. "Doesn't look like much."
"That's him. I'm certain."
"Good. I'll file his death certificate."
Radlilo's heart plummeted again.
What did that mean?!
What he didn't know was that outside, several Valentinos had already gathered—big names, not just small fry.
The Padre had already told them someone colluded with Holt and betrayed their own.
The Valentinos waited outside the clinic, giving this no-name traitor more honor than he deserved.
Radlilo was lost in fear as car headlights shone through the window against the wall opposite him—
The operating table rose slowly, and three familiar figures walked in.
The same three Legends he had just been imagining!
Jackie stepped forward, showing off his old Valentino tattoos, and pulled out his golden hand cannon.
The black barrel pressed against Radlilo's forehead.
Jackie's deep, cold voice rang out:
"You thought selling out your own in a job would just be forgotten?"
Radlilo was thunderstruck—they knew about his betrayal!
Growing up in Heywood, he despised traitors himself. That's why earlier, he cursed the ripperdoc in his heart for possibly selling him to Scavs.
But he only wanted money and strength! He wanted to rise, to become a boss—was that so wrong?!
Countless excuses flashed through his mind—but the anesthetic silenced him.
Bang!
Radlilo's corpse was loaded onto a Valentino Mackniaw and taken away.
The message would spread from the bosses present to their crews, down to every soldier on the street.
The Padre's influence was huge, but even he alone couldn't have gathered so many leaders. This was a show of mutual respect.
But with Leo, Jackie, and V involved, the impact was far greater. Strictly speaking, they had also benefited from taking down 6th Street.
That back-and-forth made the warning all the more powerful.
When the others left, Jackie burst into booming laughter:
"Haha! That was awesome! Haven't played the part in ages!"
The burly man slammed his arms across his chest, flexing wildly in excitement.
"Can you calm down?" Leo sighed. "It was a small thing."
"You don't get it. Showing off at home feels way better than doing it anywhere else. And hey—you know some of the guys who showed up? If I hadn't listened to my mom back then—"
"Then you wouldn't be here now." V cut him off sharply. "So, what, you gonna write this into your little rulebook?"
"You joke, but yeah! I'll make this a reference note for Rule Two.
Every guidebook has commentary, right? I'll use this story as an annotation, something to make people think."
"Annotation for what? Don't betray your crew?"
"Not exactly. More like—keep your eyes sharp."
"Tch." V scoffed. "Didn't think a brute like you had the brains to write a book."
Then she looked at Leo: "So? Weren't we still investigating the rogue AI?"
"Yeah. Rogue AI. Wooly's weapons really did come from Muramasa, and he's got plenty of other high-grade gear.
It all came through Pacifica. Someone from Night City is smoothing the connections for him, making a killing."
At that, Leo's face turned strange.
Because he knew this man.
"Who? What Night City local already linked up with Europeans?"
"More precise to say—a Night City local who fled to lay low. Jackie, you've probably heard of him. Name's Dexter DeShawn."
[TN: Worst Fixer ever, beside Faraday of course]
Jackie's head shot forward, eyes wide:
"No shit?! That guy? The most badass fixer in Night City—well, used to be.
He screwed up in Pacifica over a year ago and ran. So he's behind all this?"
"More like he's mixed up in it plenty. Right place, right time—even a pig could fly."
In the original timeline, the Europeans never tried to enter Night City.
But now, they needed someone to open doors for them.
And Dexter DeShawn, once a legendary fixer from Night City, just so happened to be abroad.
An exile with local ties and street cred—he was their perfect choice.
And Dexter wasted no time cashing in. Muramasa sought him out, and he was happy to deal.
Muramasa had deep pockets.
In the original story, Dexter was supposed to be Jackie and V's "benefactor"—the fixer who introduced them to Lizzie's Bar and gave them that doomed job.
Leo felt a twinge of irony and decided to reach out to Bryce.
[To: Bryce]
[Leo: Found a lead. Dexter DeShawn. You know the name? He's tied to Muramasa.]
[Bryce: That idiot?!]
[Bryce: Good. Good.]
Bryce's words dripped with resentment—he clearly had bad blood with Dexter.
Leo expected him to offer more advice, but on the other end, silence fell.
[Leo: ?]
After a while, Bryce finally replied:
[Bryce: Just now—Holt's hospital room was blown up.]
[Unstable energy is about to erupt.]
[TN: No, don't go back. Things were just getting good.]