[Roleplay Synchronization: 15%]
From his silence through the day and the convincingly "lost" performance on the road, Neo's synchronization rate had climbed again. His strength and speed were sharper now — the weight of his body and blade felt perfectly balanced.
The Interrogation Room 12 wasn't large.
A single spotlight lit the center — a long steel table and two chairs.
When Neo stepped inside, the border officer sitting there frowned.
"You're supposed to be in Room Two, not Twelve."
Neo gave a casual "Oh," and said, "Guess I took the wrong turn."
The officer sighed. "Fine. Interrogating you here makes no difference. Sit."
Neo sat down opposite him and placed the black folder on the table.
"What's in the car?" the officer asked, lighting a cigarette. He didn't even glance at the folder.
"It's written in the documents," Neo replied calmly.
The officer exhaled a smoke ring and smiled thinly. "In here, I ask, and you answer. Let's try again — what's in the car?"
The faint tone of threat didn't even register with Neo. If he wanted, he could draw his blade and slice the man in half before the first shot left the barrel. Hell, he could raze this entire checkpoint to the ground if he felt like it.
He could.
But there was no need.
"I think you should take a look," Neo said, voice steady. "You might find something… surprising."
The officer frowned but flipped open the folder. His eyes widened — a small credit chip sat tucked inside the papers.
He coughed twice, then discreetly pocketed the chip.
Instantly, his entire demeanor changed. "Everything seems perfectly fine, sir." He smiled and gently slid the folder back. "Enjoy your evening. Safe travels."
Money still talked — even in 2077, the oldest truth of all remained: cash greases every gear.
…
Neo stepped out of the Border Inspection Building, his green hair gleaming faintly under the fluorescent floodlights.
Jackie Welles was leaning forward anxiously in the car. "So? What happened?"
"All good," Neo said, sliding into the seat. "Though if you want to stay and grab a coffee, I'm sure they wouldn't stop you."
Jack hit the ignition so fast the car roared to life before Neo finished speaking. The vehicle shot away from the checkpoint like a fired bullet.
"Coffee? Choom, I wouldn't stay in that place if you paid me double!"
Once they crossed the border, Jack's nerves melted into excitement. "Damn, hermano, that was clean! We're gonna get paid. You'll get a fat cut too!"
Neo only smiled faintly. Whatever was inside that crate, likely some lizard the corps wanted for biotech experiments, didn't impress him much. If they couldn't find a buyer, it was about as useful as soup meat.
Jack, of course, couldn't stop talking. As they sped down the dark highway, he bragged endlessly about his life in Night City — about knowing "big names" and "spicy chicas," the kind who could make a saint sin.
Neo knew better. He'd played the story before. Jack was full of charm and bullshit in equal measure.
Through the windshield, the horizon shimmered — and then it appeared.
Night City.
A monstrous jewel rising from the wasteland.
Beautiful and filthy. Seductive and cruel.
A mirage of chrome and neon, a dream that devoured its dreamers.
"Hey, Neo," Jack asked, eyes flicking toward the skyline, "you think we're clear? No more trouble?"
"Drive," Neo said simply. "Just keep driving."
He hadn't finished the sentence before trouble arrived.
At the next intersection, under the cold flicker of a traffic light, several armored corporate vehicles burst out of the darkness.
A sharp voice came through an external speaker:
"Shut down your engine immediately! The cargo you are transporting is corporate property. You are under investigation for smuggling!"
"Shit!" Jack yelled, wrenching the wheel. The car smashed through the guardrail, plunging off-road into the night.
Good thing this wasn't that old scrapheap anymore. The patrol car Neo had taken from Andrew Jones had solid torque — good enough to outrun corporate pursuit, at least for a while.
The corporate agents didn't bother with warnings this time.
Their windows dropped. Muzzles gleamed.
Then came the sound.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ratatatat!
Bullets tore through the air, sparking against metal, shattering asphalt. A few rounds screamed past Neo's ear close enough to feel the heat.
Jack cursed in three languages. "Madre de Dios! How the hell did they find us?! Those checkpoint bastards! Took our bribe and sold us out!"
His rage echoed through the cabin. Neo, sitting calmly beside him, looked completely unfazed — like the storm of gunfire wasn't meant for him at all.
"Jack," Neo said evenly, "just keep your hands on the wheel. The dogs behind us — they're mine."
Before Jack could respond, Neo reached out and opened the passenger door.
Then he stepped out.
Straight onto the moving car.
To anyone else, it would've been suicide. But Neo, synced at 15%, was well beyond the limits of human physics.
He landed on the car roof with effortless grace. The wind howled around him, the vehicle shaking violently beneath — yet his stance didn't waver an inch.
The agents behind stared, dumbfounded.
Somewhere between disbelief and fear.
What the hell is this guy doing? Standing on the car? Exposed? Is he insane?
Even cyberpsychos didn't pull this kind of stunt.
Was he trying to take on a whole convoy by himself? Who did he think he was — Adam Smasher?
Neo simply stood tall, his coat whipping in the wind. Under the neon glow, his green hair flared like a streak of fire.
He even took a second to run a hand through it — just to piss them off.
Then the hailstorm resumed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Ratatatat!
This time the bullets were personal — aimed squarely at him, furious, relentless.
Neo's eyes narrowed.
The Nameless Blade slid free with a whisper.
And in that instant, the world slowed.
The hum of the sword resonated through the night — a sharp, pure sound that seemed to cut through the wind itself.
A surge of sword intent exploded from him, forming an invisible barrier that shattered the incoming bullets midair. Sparks rained like golden dust around him.
Then he moved.
One swing.
A green arc of light split the darkness.
The slash tore through the air — through steel, glass, flesh, and flame.
The lead corporate vehicle was bisected cleanly, from hood to trunk.
The explosion that followed lit up the highway, engulfing the convoy in a wall of fire. The shockwave rolled across the desert, swallowing the screams and gunfire into silence.
On the speeding car below, Jack's jaw dropped.
Neo stood atop the roof, bathed in the reflected blaze, calm as ever.
A swordsman in a neon storm.
And for the first time, the city of chrome itself seemed to acknowledge him — another monster born in its shadow.