Max-TAC Base — Medical and Cyberware Division / Cybernetic Modification Center
"His body's not normal."
A professional ripperdoc pointed at the monitor's readings. "Look here—his bench press exceeds 300kg, yet he only weighs around 70kg. And he doesn't have any implants."
"No implants?" Master's brow arched slightly. "Impossible."
It was absolutely impossible.
Bench pressing, in simple terms, means lying flat and pushing a barbell upwards. In the history of the sport, there have been rare individuals who managed over 300kg with no gear, no enhancements, no stimulants. The world record was an absurd 350kg.
But those were monsters—massive powerlifters weighing over 300lbs, with the physique to match. Literal beasts in human form.
And Roqi?
177cm, 70kg. Average body, above-average face. Nothing else stood out.
Those visible abs? A joke to Max-TAC's freakshow of elite operatives.
Not a single combat implant—except for a minor electromagnetic anomaly in his lower legs. He was, by all accounts, a regular guy born without enhancements.
And yet he was benching 300kg?
What kind of sick joke was this?
Sure, with hormones, gene editing, and cybernetics, there were plenty of ton-class freaks out there—some even within Max-TAC itself. But Roqi's case couldn't be explained by "talent" alone. This was something else entirely.
Master had heard of a group out west, in Pacifica—the Animals.
They rejected traditional cyberware, choosing instead to overload their bodies with testosterone and animal-based enhancers. They glorified the primal side of humanity and were dangerously obsessed with physical identity.
Those muscle-heads traded their health and lifespan for power, and yes, their raw strength could surpass Roqi's. But even they weren't doing what Roqi was doing. Not naturally.
Whether it was bench, squat, or deadlift—Roqi dominated. Sit-ups, pull-ups, push-ups—effortless. Sprints, long-distance, shuttle runs—he had both terrifying explosiveness and stamina, a near-impossible combination.
His melee skills? Wild, but brutally effective. Though lacking refined technique, the results were impressive. There were clear traces of military-style combat methods—Sooji's influence was evident. She'd definitely trained him.
The one glaring issue?
His marksmanship.
Beyond mid-range rifle accuracy, everything else was abysmal.
Even ten-meter pistol targets? Missed entirely.
Master could feel his blood pressure spike.
No implants shouldn't mean complete trash aim!
Max-TAC agents weren't always top of the charts in precision, but their battlefield efficiency and destructive power were second to none.
Just moments ago, everyone was marveling at Roqi's physical performance.
Now? They were nearly doubled over in laughter at his target scores.
"Blazing glory! Hahahaha—cough cough cough!"
Someone burst into uncontrollable, obnoxious laughter.
Roqi already knew his aim was garbage—but hearing that kind of laughter still made his hair stand on end.
He turned his head sharply.
A man, clad in full polished jet-black alloy armor and a glossy black helmet, lay across the bench in the spectator's area, laughing himself breathless.
What the hell are you laughing at?
Roqi clenched his teeth and exhaled.
There were over fifty Max-TAC operatives present. Even if only a quarter were full-fledged, he wasn't about to take on all of them.
Otherwise, he'd have gladly walked over and kicked that bastard in the ribs.
Wait—
That laugh… too obnoxious. Too insane. He sounded like a certified lunatic.
Then again, this was Max-TAC.
Where's the highest concentration of certified psychos in Night City?
The city's psychiatric hospital came second.
Max-TAC? Unbeaten for years running.
Yeah… don't argue with psychos.
Roqi gave himself a nod.
Still… why did he seem familiar?
He couldn't help but look again, studying the figure convulsing in laughter.
He definitely recognized that armor… that build…
"That night… it was him."
Sooji put down her still-smoking pistol, removed her ear protectors, and ran a textbook-perfect reload. Then she leaned close and whispered:
"That night—it was him."
Night…?
Roqi frowned, eyes shifting before they widened in shock.
Of course—the night Takemura had brought him to meet with Oda.
Things fell apart. Oda snapped and started hurting civilians. That's when some lunatic Max-TAC brute had stepped in.
The full-metal psycho dual-wielding Saratogas, cradling a heavy-caliber machine gun like it was nothing, and with a goddamn shoulder-mounted incendiary rocket launcher—yeah. That was him.
That night's imagery was forever burned into Roqi's mind.
That guy had left the impression of a walking tank.
Firepower like that could easily reduce Militech mechs to scrap metal.
Roqi wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead.
Even Oda, a top-tier bodyguard, had avoided confronting that level of firepower. That said enough.
"Goddamn maniac…"
Roqi shook his head and reloaded his M-12AF Satara kinetic pistol.
Unlike the sleek Lexington favored by NCPD for its low recoil and compact size, the Satara was a beast—a heavy-caliber monster favored by Max-TAC.
What? Lexingtons were good for subduing suspects with minimal casualties?
Great. That's why Max-TAC despised them.
The Satara was heavy, loud, and great for blowing people apart. Minimal chance of non-lethal hits. Perfect for Max-TAC.
And perfect for Roqi, too.
He might suck at aiming, but he believed in one thing—"Caliber is justice. The bigger, the better."
Max-TAC would've agreed.
BANG! — 5 points.
Nice! Great opener.
BANG! — 2 points.
Damn. Slipped.
BANG! — 6 points.
Alright, getting better.
BANG! — Missed entirely.
Piece of shit gun!
After unleashing his "Heroic Eight-Blast Salvo," Roqi gave up in a fit of frustration.
The Max-TAC peanut gallery was already in stitches.
Bastards.
Roqi grumbled and followed Sooji out of the shooting range.
The pistol course was the final assessment, signaling the end of the testing.
Master stood nearby, PDA in hand, wearing a strange expression—equal parts complex and amused.
All Roqi saw was smug satisfaction.
Wasn't Max-TAC supposed to be scary, serious, and intense?
So far, all he'd encountered was ridicule.
"Ahem. These are your test results," Master said, finally speaking. "They're compared against our operative standards."
His voice carried an unusual trace of mirth—rare, given his reputation for emotional restraint.
Sooji's scores stunned everyone.
Even excluding official training, her raw stats placed her in the lower-mid tier of full Max-TAC operatives. Terrifying.
She had bypassed reserve and standard divisions entirely and gone straight into the top class.
Full operatives were only deployed when dealing with high-level threats—cyberpsychos with military-grade combat mods.
For lower-level threats, a squad leader would take a mix of reserves and standard units.
Sending just reserves for recon or minor missions was common.
Like the two grunts Roqi and Sooji had encountered during their dinner—bottom-tier Max-TAC, but still elite by NCPD standards.
No wonder NCPD called Max-TAC "a country within a country."
In Night City, each corporation was a sovereign power.
Saburo Arasaka? Emperor of an empire. Sure, he died a bit... "theatrically." But when he fell, the whole city shook.
Max-TAC?
They felt like a rogue paramilitary force. Still enforcing justice—for now. But when pushed… they could burn it all down.
"Starting today, you are probationary operatives of Max-TAC Team One, Squad One."
Master handed them each an ID chip.
"Keep it safe. It's your ID—and your life insurance."
Roqi slotted his chip into his PDA. Sooji pressed hers into her bioport. A moment later, both had limited access authorization.
At least now, they wouldn't be gunned down by their "colleagues."
Colleagues. Roqi still wasn't used to that word… but he could roll with it.
[Roqi – Extreme Tactical Unit, Max-TAC Team One, Squad One – Probationary Operative]
[Sooji Mower – Extreme Tactical Unit, Max-TAC Team One, Squad One – Probationary Operative]
"Hey—Team One, Squad One. That's a lucky number."
Roqi chuckled. "Wasn't there supposed to be a 'probation period' or something? Did we skip all that 'cause we're just that good?"
"No," Master said flatly. "We're short-handed. As for Squad One… heh…"
There it was again—Master's bone-chilling smile.
Max-TAC might be a government department, but it gave off serious cult vibes.
"It's nothing. Just that Squad One has… higher mortality."
Roqi: !!!
Sooji: !!!
"Wait—what the hell do you mean 'higher mortality'!? Are you fighting in a warzone or something!?" Roqi panicked. "Don't you have reserves? Why us!?"
Everything made sense now.
Too late.
"You do know what 'reserve' means, right?" Master replied calmly. "One top-tier combatant is worth a dozen grunts."
That line… it sounded familiar.
T-Bug used to say something like that about netrunners.
"A good hacker's worth a dozen amateurs."
Same rule applied to the battlefield.
Especially in 2077—when cyberware turned men into monsters. Without specialized training, your average cop wouldn't stand a chance.
That's why Max-TAC existed.
"…Shit."
Roqi rolled his eyes. He was starting to worry for himself and Sooji.
"Fine. But at least tell me what happened to the last guys?"
Master looked at him, then nodded.
"Fair question." He leaned forward slightly. "They're paralyzed. Being stabilized."
"Paralyzed? What kind of threat can cripple Max-TAC operatives?"
"You're one of us now," Master said meaningfully. "Even full-body cyborgs aren't invincible."
"Their cyberization wasn't deep enough. Their armor couldn't protect the flesh. But next time, that won't be a problem."
Because their ruined organs would be replaced with the best cyberware available.
Roqi finished the sentence in his mind.
"And most importantly, Squad One always gets the worst assignments."
There it was—the core issue.
"'Worst,' huh? Didn't expect you to say that."
"It's the truth," Master replied. "And Squad One's leader… their combat and command style doesn't help."
"…?"
Roqi caught something strange in his tone.
Tap… tap…
Sharp military boots echoed from the hallway.
Whoever it was—they made an impression.
Half the Max-TAC operatives instinctively turned… then looked away in a panic.
Roqi froze, turning slowly.
The first thing he saw—polished black boots. And long, powerful, elegant legs.
If Roqi had to sum up his current feelings in one phrase?
Cardiac Arrest.
-
-
-
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
📢 Cyberpunk Alert! 📢
My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew? now has 100+ chapters ahead on Patreon! 💘💥
Romance, madness, and chrome—read far ahead with early access.
🛑 Other Patreon novels include:
Cyberpunk: The Relentless
Cyberpunk: Lucy Adopted Me and I Got a System
My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator
Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort
The Rebirth of Harry Potter
Dragon King of Ice and Fire
Star Wars: Relics of the Past
R18: Reincarnated in Her World
🔗 www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus👤 SrMagnus🐦 https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ More Power Stones = more chapters!