"Hey, are you seriously underestimating me right now?"
Roqi looked at the three unarmed training dummies and swung his katana with a smirk.
It even simulated the weight perfectly?
Damn. Braindance tech really was something else.
He studied the grip's texture with mild fascination before tightening his hold on the blade.
"Enough chatter. Get moving," Melissa said with obvious disdain. "Since you think this is too easy, let's crank up the difficulty."
Bling~ Bling~
A few flashes of light flickered—and suddenly, each dummy was holding a vividly colored melee weapon.
Hollow alloy baseball bats.
Standard-issue for gangs: good for beating someone unconscious or to death.
Roqi didn't even flinch.
Three bat-wielding gangers on open ground?
Some "challenge."
He started walking toward them.
Then, as the distance closed to under ten meters, he leaned forward, took a single step—and launched like a missile.
He shot toward the leftmost dummy like a cannonball.
The katana sliced clean through its neck, the head flying off its shoulders.
A reverse slash carved diagonally through the second dummy's back, sending its bat clattering to the ground.
Roqi advanced.
He drove his blade into the third dummy's gut and pushed it through the lower back.
In just a few seconds, all three targets were down—completely overwhelmed.
Roqi shook his head, unimpressed.
This was a waste of time. He could've gotten more out of picking a fight with some street punks and carving his way through an entire block.
Then—
"Too slow!! What the hell are you doing—taking a damn stroll?!"
Melissa's voice blasted through the comms, making him jump.
"You took that long to take out three pieces of trash? Sightseeing or something?!"
Roqi blinked.
He wasn't sure what she was getting at.
"These are bottom-tier enemies with zero combat ability. Where's the speed you showed during diagnostics?"
"I'm giving you one more chance. Wipe them out as fast as you can. Or I'll make you run two laps around Night City!"
Earlier, while T-Bug and Pavarotti were setting up the hardware, Melissa had looked completely uninterested.
But the second the training chip activated—
She snapped right back into drill instructor mode.
"Okay, got it," Roqi said, snapping back to focus.
He adjusted his grip. The reset command was already under his fingertips.
With a flick of his glove, the scene reset.
It was like rewinding time—the background blurred, then stabilized into the familiar scenario.
Three dummies. Bats raised. Roqi stood ten meters away.
A time counter appeared in the upper-right corner—accurate to the millisecond.
The clock read: 00:000.
"Faster. Faster..."
Roqi whispered to himself, crouched lower, shifting his center of gravity. His katana hugged his side.
BANG!!
With a sharp crash, he launched forward again.
This time, straight at the center dummy.
Crack!
The dummy's head shot into the air.
Blade flashed. The one on the right got its throat slit—virtual blood sprayed in all directions.
A reverse cut chopped off the left dummy's arm. The katana halted at its abdomen as the figure collapsed in slow motion.
"Still not fast enough. Your turn was too slow."
Melissa didn't sound nearly as pissed—but she wasn't satisfied either.
"When you go for speed, every move needs to be efficient. No wasted motion. Find the fastest way to kill them—don't give them even half a second to react!"
That wasn't theory—that was field doctrine.
MaxTac officers, enhanced with Sandevistans, were walking tanks with speed to match. They'd blast through enemy lines like high-speed drills.
Even in full-scale shootouts, elite agents could walk away unscathed—or rely on armor to soak hits.
That's because MaxTac, from day one, was built to take on many, alone.
What was suicide to others was routine to them.
It wasn't just gear or implants—it was the ingrained training and muscle memory.
Roqi hit reset again.
The scene blinked back to the default formation.
This time, he examined their positioning carefully.
A simple triangle—two in front, one in back. Roughly three meters between each.
Far enough that one swing couldn't tag more than one target.
Melissa had definitely set this on purpose.
The real challenge wasn't brute force. It was linking three fatal attacks into the shortest, fastest chain.
The body needs time to react. Charging, swinging, recovering—it all costs milliseconds.
This was math. And the best warriors crushed the numbers.
Roqi locked eyes on the center-rear dummy.
Same target—but this time, a better approach.
BOOM!!
Classic Sandevistan burst dash. Ten meters? Gone in a blink.
While airborne, Roqi threw a brutal kick to the dummy's chest—blasting it back.
That kick drained his momentum, slowing him just enough.
Reverse slash—clean decapitation of the left dummy.
His dash had favored the left intentionally—to set up that follow-through.
As he landed, his calves twisted. Small jet ports blasted from his prosthetics, launching him sideways.
Shhh—
The katana skewered the final dummy. Roqi slammed into it shoulder-first, knocking it flat. Its head bounced against the floor.
"Better. Clean up your execution," Melissa said, sounding pleased. "Don't hesitate. Use whatever's available—your weapon, your body—whatever gets the job done."
The dummy he kicked? Data showed catastrophic damage—ribs pulverized. Bone fragments might've pierced its heart.
Roqi had aimed to break it. And he did.
He kept practicing—fine-tuning the sequence, adjusting stances.
Milliseconds shaved here and there.
But the improvement was real. No more sloppy brawler vibes.
"Okay. Let's switch it up."
Melissa nodded and triggered a scene Roqi had queued earlier.
Gone was the wide-open white void. Now—
He stood in a room. Actually, two small rooms.
Five dummies, all armed—blades, clubs, poles.
In tight quarters, speed was limited. He couldn't move freely.
Even when he tried to pre-aim like he had x-ray vision, things felt clumsy.
Without momentum, his efficiency tanked.
But a real MaxTac agent?
They'd zip through both rooms with instant steps—leaving behind five gutted corpses.
It was second nature to them.
Roqi's eventual solution: use internal propulsion in tight spaces.
After clearing Room One, he boosted toward Room Two. Kicked off the doorframe—redirected midair—and slammed into the next target.
Time got shorter with each run.
By the time Melissa nodded again, Roqi could wall-kick three times in a row, within a single tight corridor.
Any real enemy seeing him for the first time?
Wouldn't even have time to react.
He'd enter the room—
And they'd all die.
That was the cold truth.
Melissa's scenarios weren't just tough. They were authentic.
And Roqi? Grinding his way to perfect answers like a puzzle-solver.
"Next up: better-armed enemies."
New scene loaded.
Melissa's alley scenario appeared before him.
Urban warfare.
This was Night City's true battleground—alleyways and backstreets.
Doesn't matter if it's the Glen, Santo Domingo, or some corpo block—they all had tight spaces and dense buildings.
Especially the bad parts of town—crumbling tenements, back-alley vendors, shoddy planning, duct-taped infrastructure.
Perfect places for gang wars.
And nightmares for patrol teams.
Illegal housing, maze-like layouts, impromptu fortifications—you name it.
The kind of place where NUSA soldiers got shredded during past conflicts. Poor visibility, endless blind corners, booby traps behind every door.
"There are four shooters. Good luck, rookie."
Roqi didn't like being called a rookie anymore. Not after running ops solo.
But when it came to core training?
Yeah. He was still a rookie.
No matter how good you are free-styling, unstructured combat will get you killed.
Real consistency came from hard training.
Even freak performance spikes had a solid foundation.
This alley was awful.
How awful?
Barely any clean lines of sight. Two buildings and a wall funneled movement into a nightmare.
No clear path. Everything looked accessible—but nothing was convenient.
Tight corridors, sketchy stairs, broken fences, rusted railings, and crumbling concrete everywhere.
If you didn't watch your step, you'd fall on your ass—easy.
And in this mess? Four gunners.
Roqi's old instincts screamed: frag grenade, shotgun, blast 'em.
But this time? He only had his katana.
He surveyed the layout.
Two shooters elevated on a slope. One in the middle of the street. One lurking in a corner.
No way to take them all out cleanly before someone noticed.
That was the puzzle.
He stood ten meters from the center-street dummy.
At that range? Even a rookie ganger would raise their gun in time.
"I hate this," Roqi muttered, spinning his katana and throwing in a flourish.
He locked on—and dashed forward for a clean kill.
BANG!
Gunfire. Roqi froze.
System message: You've been shot. Simulation failed.
Melissa had set this to "One-hit kill" mode. But the kill came from them.
Even if the bullet hit his foot, it was over.
And the AI's reaction time—
"What the hell? Why was he so fast?!"
Roqi was stunned.
Melissa didn't even flinch. "They're set to normal MaxTac reaction speed. Charging ten meters straight ahead? What'd you expect—that they'd just stand there?"
She tore into him again.
"Now that they're armed, you need to dodge every bullet. Use speed to make yourself untrackable."
It wasn't some impossible ask.
Every certified MaxTac officer—even candidates—could do it.
That's why people called them monsters.
"Alright… One more try."
Roqi exhaled and focused.
Straight line was suicide—so he dashed at an angle.
Timer started.
Wall-run. Hard turn. A flying kick shattered the dummy's neck.
Smooth. Swift. Like a hawk diving from the clouds.
BANG!
And then—black and white again.
Behind him, a dummy stood in the corner—gun still smoking.
For a second, Roqi swore it wasn't a blank-faced AI—
But some bastard whispering:
"Times have changed, old man."
-
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MY GIRLFRIEND'S A CYBERPSYCHO—WHO KNEW?
🤖💘 MY GIRLFRIEND'S A CYBERPSYCHO—WHO KNEW? 💘🤖
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📢 LOVE MEETS CYBERPSYCHOSIS! 📢
My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew? has 100+ chapters ahead available on Patreon! 💘💥
Romance is already complicated.
Now add:
🌃 Night City🦾 Cyberware🔫 Gunfights💀 Cyberpsychosis💥 Property damage❤️ And a girlfriend who might snap at any moment
Love hurts.
In this case, it might also come with bullets, broken walls, and emergency trauma care.
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