The stall owner closed his eyes as if his life were flashing before him. The deafening blast of the shotgun silenced the bustling black market in an instant!
Octo-Arm pushed aside Joestar's smoking barrel, stopping him from firing a second round.
The expected sight of the stall owner being blasted into a pulp never came—
The posturing man had actually dodged the shot with his eyes closed—not by reacting to the bullets themselves, but through a neural system that analyzed visual data to calculate trajectories and move the body instinctively to avoid the shot.
There were plenty of skill chips like that on the market—a whole category of them. Their success rate depended on the chip's algorithm, the user's cyber-eyes, implant quality, and neural response speed.
The stall owner opened his eyes and looked down at his body. Before he could feel relieved or surprised, a crushing, all-consuming pain slammed into every inch of his flesh.
Bang.
He collapsed to the ground. Through his torn clothes, his organic muscles could be seen writhing like worms beneath the skin.
The intense pain made him seize up, twitching uncontrollably, eyes wide and rolling. Tears, drool, and other fluids streamed freely down his face.
"This guy cursed or something?" V asked, looking down at the scene.
"Not cursed," Leo said. "His cyber-modulator's been hacked. Skill chips can be forced past their safety limits, overstimulating the body.
When a biological body like his gets pushed that far, the muscles overload and start spasming. Hurts like hell.
Especially for someone that out of shape.
Was hoping to keep this quiet, but now... let's check if he's got anything useful on him."
Octo-Arm gripped the guardrail of the overpass. Leo leapt down lightly, landing without a sound. The onlookers panicked—crowds stumbled backward, some falling over each other in fear.
The stall owner's terrified eyes locked on Leo. His spasming muscles and synthetic sockets were pushing his cyber-eyes outward, like they were about to pop.
"Hel... help... he—"
He kept repeating the same broken syllable, one hand reaching desperately away from the pneumatic injector lying in front of him.
Useless.
Leo nodded slightly and turned to Joestar, who had jumped down after him. "There was a fight here. Want to check if that synth-oil on the wall is your gang's type?
If DoomDoom came by to 'restore order,' he might've clashed with this guy. He's a Brainiacs gang member."
Joestar paused, glancing where Leo pointed. Despite the broken boards and rags covering it, he could make out the faint smear of cleaned oil residue underneath.
He spat on the ground, then deliberately stomped on the fallen stall owner. The man shrieked like a slaughtered chicken, and one of his cyber-eyes popped out.
The sudden detachment yanked out a mess of nerve connectors and synthetic fluid that splattered across the floor.
Joestar crouched, pried up the board, and scraped some of the oil from the wall with his finger.
He tasted it carefully.
"This flavor... It's Maelstrom gang machine oil."
"Eren Street, No. 23!"
Just as Leo was about to search the stall, the stall owner suddenly froze mid-spasm, staring straight at Joestar—
His voice module crackled to life.
"Eren Street No. 23—Eren Street No. 23!"
Eren Street?
The name rang a bell. Octo-Arm quickly pulled up Leo's memory logs:
That psycho Jotaro opened the Ho-Oh Nightclub there, at the far south end of Eren Street.
That was close to Mox territory. Leo had thought the Moxes would've taken it by now. Didn't expect it to be a Brainiacs stronghold instead.
Maybe they could rally the Moxes—Brainiacs was an unknown enemy, and the more allies, the better.
"Let's go. See if DoomDoom's been captured."
Just as Leo was about to leave, Joestar spoke up.
"What a coincidence. My mom works on South Eren Street. After this, I can swing by—she's probably not home."
Lizzy's Bar.
Bang!
"Judy, you crazy bitch!"
Susie was furious.
She had no idea what Judy had done this time.
Lots of weird new recruits had joined the Moxes lately, and most of them had... unusual ideas.
[Incoming Call: Judy]
[Judy: Listen, Susie, I—]
[Susie: You think you're some kind of Joytoy hero, huh?! All for your dumb ex?!]
[Judy: I—]
[Susie: Do you even know what's going on with the gangs right now? The Slaughterhouse, the Brainiacs—you think these upstart freak shows aren't dangerous?]
[Susie: Let me tell you something. These psychos were the worst killers in Night City before you were even born!]
[Susie: Times are hard, Judy! The Mox can't afford your bullshit right now!]
[Judy: I know, I know, I messed up... Susie, I—]
[Susie: Get lost. The Mox doesn't need empty-headed drama queens like you.]
[Judy: No, Susie, listen—Maiko sold a bunch of people to the Brainiacs, we—]
[Susie: Oh, here we go again. Yesterday you were "freeing" the dolls at Cloud. Today you're saving Brainiac's victims. What's next, liberating all of Night City from corporate scum?]
[Susie: Wake up, girl! You're just a braindance editor! You ruined Ana, cost lives, and that's still not enough?!]
Judy grabbed her hair, her makeup ruined and streaked with dried tears.
She wanted to cry again.
Normally, this would be when she'd start sobbing or screaming, but not today.
Susie had her cornered.
She spoke softly, clutching her freshly bandaged thigh:
[Judy: Susie, I'm sorry, really... but those people—they were supposed to join the Mox—]
[Susie: And what good did that do? You sold them to your ex first! Who knows who he'll sell them to next?!]
[Judy: Please, Susie, I know... the Burger King crew—they're going there too, you can—]
[Susie: Enough. Whatever I do, it's none of your business.]
Boiling mad.
Not just irritated—furious.
Judy was decent at braindance editing; Lizzy's Club owed part of its success to her, and Susie knew it.
But this wasn't about talent anymore. Every time Judy got emotional, people died—and one of them even went cyberpsycho.
Who could tolerate that?
And still...
sigh.
Susie was exasperated. Even now, Judy still thought she could tell people what to do, chasing her delusional crusade.
No sense of proportion. No understanding that responsibility scales with power.
Spoiled.
As Susie debated whether to act on this...
[Incoming Call: Burger King]
[Burger King: Brainiacs are on South Eren Street. Why didn't you take that turf?]
[Susie: Didn't have the muscle. We used to, but business's been bad, and the newbies got poached.]
[Susie: They took the first move—it's tough to fight back now.]
[Burger King: Giving you a chance. We'll take point.]
[Susie: Deal.]