"Let's see who burns out first!"
The Trauma Team assault operative grinned, his teeth bared in a crazed smile. He was laughing at this tiny cyberpsycho who dared to talk big.
In battles like these, he'd never lost. These cyberpsychos always thought they were special, blessed with some unique edge, but in reality, they were just big fish in a small pond.
They'd somehow get their hands on a military-grade Sandevistan and think they could dominate Night City, becoming the king of the urban jungle. People like that popped up all the time in Night City.
And their endings? Usually pathetic. Most didn't even make a splash before fading away like shooting stars, not even worth mentioning over a cup of ramen after a long night.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of metal clashing echoed as Riku, our protagonist, squared off against the Trauma Team assault operative. Their figures darted left and right, the fiery glow of a thermal katana clashing against the crystalline edge of a power sword, sparks flying with every strike.
The other three Trauma Team members stood by, casually watching the show like they were at a kabuki performance.
"Take this guy alive. Recruit him," one of them said, eyeing Riku's skills. This cyberpsycho wasn't half bad—maybe he'd make a good addition to their squad.
"No can do. Biotech wants him dead," another shot back, already aiming his gun at Riku, ready to fire a fatal shot at any moment.
"There's something off about this guy. He's got serious research value," chimed in the team's netrunner, a hacker with a sharp edge. She'd already fried Riku's cybernetic eye, wrecking its system so it wouldn't reboot, but her other attempts to hack him had sunk like a stone in the Pacific Ocean.
This made her realize this cyberpsycho was no ordinary ronin. There was something special about him—something worth studying. At the very least, she needed to figure out why her hacks weren't working.
Her cyberdeck was top-tier, loaded with external drives, RAM managers, and the latest cyberware. Even the slickest netrunners couldn't make her daemons vanish without a trace like that.
"You sure?" the gunman asked, lowering his weapon slightly and glancing at the netrunner for confirmation.
"Absolutely," she replied with a nod, her voice brimming with confidence. She trusted her skills—she never made mistakes.
This guy didn't know the first thing about hacking. When she hit his cyber-eye, he had zero defenses, going dark in an instant. But his chip and Sandevistan? She couldn't even touch them. That wasn't normal—not by a long shot.
"Dran! Take him alive!" the gunman shouted, worried that the assault operative, Dran, might slice Riku to ribbons.
" Hear that? Your nakama are getting impatient! They think you can take me down quick, maybe even capture me alive. But it looks like you're struggling, huh? Your body holding up okay?" Riku taunted, his voice dripping with shonen-style bravado.
He was going all out, dodging with everything he had. Overloading his cyberware wasn't an issue for him—his Sandevistan whined under the strain, screaming in protest before repairing itself.
"Go to hell!" Riku's words hit a nerve. Dran's eyes burned red as he pushed his Sandevistan to the limit.
He pressed Riku relentlessly, ignoring his teammates' orders. His mind was empty of everything except one thought: cut this bastard down.
Riku sensed it. His constant verbal jabs and provocations had pushed the Trauma Team operative into a rage—a perfect berserk mode, just like he wanted.
If they fought by the book, Dran would eventually burn out. Human bodies have limits, and so does cyberware. This guy couldn't outlast Riku's stamina.
But these yakuza-like Trauma Team goons wouldn't give him the chance to drag it out. Riku needed to enrage Dran, push him to trade blows in a reckless, life-or-death clash.
So far, Riku's plan was working like a charm. His nonstop trash-talk had sent Dran into a fury state, completely unhinged.
Dran didn't care about cyberware overload anymore. Every piece of tech in his body was running at max capacity, giving him unnatural strength. Each swing of his blade felt like it could cleave Riku in two.
The quality gap wasn't something a simple overload could bridge. Even with Riku pushing his Sandevistan to the point of smoking, it wasn't enough to close the distance—especially now that Dran was fighting like a demon.
Slash!
No point worrying about his subdermal armor now. Dran's power sword cut through it like a sushi knife through fish, slicing deep into Riku's body, wounds reaching bone. Riku gritted his teeth, pain searing his mind. Can I even repair this?
"Damn it! You better give me a ton of XP for this!" Riku cursed, throwing caution to the wind. He wanted to see if this Trauma Team lunatic was truly fearless. No more defending—let's see who drops first!
Sometimes, his cyberware felt like a burden. The subdermal armor meant to protect him had become something he had to protect.
"Something's wrong! Call for backup! Dran's losing it!" one of the Trauma Team members shouted, sensing the fight spiraling out of control.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sharpshooter opened fire, his expression grim. Bullets slammed into Riku, his subdermal armor barely holding up under the barrage. It wouldn't last much longer.
Dran's eyes blazed with madness as he unleashed a flurry of slashes. His thermal katana tore through Riku's high-grade armor, the burning sensation only fueling his bloodlust. His fighting spirit had consumed his reason.
Vrrr!
Dran's Sandevistan roared as he aimed a lethal strike at Riku's neck, not dodging or blocking—just a wild, downward slash filled with insanity.
Splurch!
The power sword's immense force cleaved Riku from head to torso, splitting him vertically. But Riku's own blade didn't stop.
Splurch!
Dran's head flew off, hitting the ground. The madness in his eyes faded, replaced by a look of release.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets whizzed through the air, finally overwhelming Riku's subdermal armor. Several shots pierced his body, leaving holes.
Riku yanked the power sword from his gut. His upper body was split in two, yet he stood firm. With a grunt, he forced his halves together, flesh knitting rapidly. In a blink, he was whole again.
"What the hell is this monster?!" the three remaining Trauma Team members gaped, their minds blown. This was beyond comprehension—was this guy even human?!
Riku glanced out the window. Night had fallen, the last sliver of light gone. Without hesitation, he leapt into the darkness.
He couldn't let himself get cornered. Trauma Team wasn't to be messed with—if they pinned him down and brought out heavy firepower, he'd be toast. Legs blown to bits? No running then. But at night, the sun wasn't a threat. Even if a sniper round hit him, he could still escape.
Riku didn't need a car, didn't need to worry about trackers. If he could shake them, they'd never find him.
His bold "Nigerundayo!" move—straight out of a JoJo playbook—left the Trauma Team stunned. Show off and then bolt, huh?!
"After him!" the three shouted, giving chase. The netrunner lagged behind, glancing around. That monster had been split in half, yet there wasn't a drop of blood. Unreal.
Riku sprinted, his upper body still healing. He'd dodged just enough to protect his Sandevistan, so it was still running smoothly, letting him escape at breakneck speed.
Shocked by Riku's stunt, the Trauma Team was slow to react. By the time they moved, he'd vanished into the night, his speed like a ninja in an old anime.
Three hovercars took off, their spotlights sweeping the darkness for Riku. Losing an operative and letting the target escape was unacceptable—a scandal that'd make headlines.
Riku's info had already been sent to HQ. Daivo Collins' name was now in the NCPD database, marked as extremely dangerous.
Riku dashed through the city, pushing his Sandevistan to its limits. He made it from the North Industrial District back to Little Chinatown.
He stuck to narrow alleys, dizzying himself with twists and turns, leaving the Trauma Team chasing shadows like headless oni.
In a city of seven million, once Riku slipped away, finding him would be like searching for a single sakura petal in a storm.
"Devil?! You okay?! Where are you?!"
Riku crouched in an alley, debating whether to hit up Old Vic, when a message from Sasha popped up. The ko-gal must've seen the news and was freaking out.
V and Jack sent messages too, all worried about him. Even Old Vic chimed in with a single line.
(End of Chapter)