Chapter 4 : Accident

The moment the words leave my mouth, a hail of bullets slams into my skin.
Shell casings clatter as gunpowder-propelled rounds fail to leave a mark, dropping uselessly to the ground.
Tech, power—every kind of bullet and weapon imaginable pounds me, kicking up smoke thick enough to obscure the view.

Whether the ammo ran dry or not, the cyberpsycho’s finger finally stops pulling the trigger.
Even if the figure before it was buried in a storm of bullets, shrouded in smoke, silence is certain.
Despite losing all reason, instinct drives it to flip the shotgun, load fresh shells, drop the pistol’s magazine, and fumble at its waist for a new one, signaling another round of slaughter.

A chill—

With reason gone, its senses sharpen to a beast-like edge, driven solely by the urge to kill, but a glitch sparks in its mind.
The sensation of goosebumps, long forgotten since it swapped skin for metal, surges back.
Pure animal fear forces the barrel up, pointing into the heart of the smoke.

Tap, tap.

A white mask emerges from the haze, not a scratch on it, casually brushing dust off with one hand.
Indifferent, annoyed, brimming with killing intent.

“All done?”

“Guh, guh—AAAGH!”

A voice, barely human, mixed with mechanical static, screams through its vocal cords.
No one could deny the raw fear in that sound.

Its thoughts accelerate, its body matching the speeding mind, impossibly fast.
Sandevistan makes it possible, relaying commands from the brain through a mechanical spine to a fully cybernetic body, executing them instantly.
A power so overwhelming, ordinary eyes can’t track it—like a superpower, enough to make anyone tense.

As the world seems to move only for it, the cyberpsycho’s fear vanishes, replaced by the confidence of victory as it steps forward.
Did the bullets miss? Or bounce off chrome-plated skin like its own?
No matter—at point-blank range, a shotgun to the temple should do something.
It aims for the head, body shifting to the side.
‘I killed it. Another kill. My win—’

Just then, the glint in my eyes tracks it.
In a moment where time stops.
‘You’ve got Sandevistan too?!’

“Slow. Too damn slow. Makes me wanna nap.”

As its finger twitches to pull the trigger, my hand moves faster.
I grab the shotgun barrel aimed at my head.
With a light grip, it crumples into a useless hunk of metal.

“They said to leave the body.”

Crunch.

It’s already treating itself as dead.
Wrong.
I’m the one who wins.
I’m the victor.
You’re the one who dies.
A seam on its thigh splits, a blade popping out.
Mantis Blades from the arms are common, but from the thigh?
How far did it go, abandoning humanity so completely it makes sense it’s a psycho?

Especially since its death is sealed here.

“Tough call, killing you intact…”

Where do I even hit?
It looks ready to burst no matter where I strike.
Sure, it’s tough against bullets, but to me, the world’s like tofu.
I’ve gotten used to controlling my strength over the years, but one slip, and it’s a catastrophe.
Arms and legs should be fine to break, right?

I slam my fist into the thigh as the Mantis Blade swings.
With a crunch, the blade doesn’t just bend—it disintegrates, the leg crushed in an instant.
As a cyberpsycho, it feels no pain, but it can’t comprehend this, writhing like a bug.

Its arm splits open, revealing a barrel.
A weapon that could shred a person or a car with ease.

“Seen that plenty.”

I flick my fingers, and the incoming grenade vanishes before it can detonate.
In the distance, it explodes as I clench my fist.

“F*ck it, as long as I don’t blow it up.”

My fist curls, middle finger and thumb locked together, the rest extended straight.
A bizarre sight in a battlefield littered with bullets, organs, and NCPD corpses.
No one expects this attack.

It’s a flick to the forehead.

“Don’t explode… just don’t…”

Thwack—

“Oh.”

The head, minus the lower jaw, flies off, bursting like a watermelon in all directions.
What’s left is a body from the jaw down, legs crushed, arms blown out.

“Sh*t, the head… screwed that up.”

No clue what parts they needed, but the brain’s a must-have.
It’s rarely replaced with machinery.
Should’ve listened to the job details instead of hanging up so fast—regret’s creeping in now.
The chip or Sandevistan might still be salvageable, right?

“Been a while, old man.”
“You.”

Right after, MaxTac hands the scene to City Ambulance’s trauma team.
They move with precision, collecting survivors—missing limbs or not—and cleaning up scattered corpses.
Beside them, I chew a cigarette through my mask, clutching my aching head, wondering how to explain this to Rogue.
A woman I’ve met a few times speaks up—Gloria Martinez.

She’s one of the few who officially know I exist, always showing up to clean up my messes.
MaxTac, as usual, ignores me like I’m not there post-job, and to keep my existence quiet, the same people handle cleanup.
It’s corporate policy to deny I exist, so MaxTac, an NCPD subcontractor, naturally does nothing.
But Gloria? No idea what guts she’s got to talk to me.
I don’t mind it—hell, I like it.
Her boldness earns her a returned greeting, though I wonder if that’s why the corporations leave her alone.
If she vanished quietly, I’d just go back to the old days and carve another crater in Night City.

“Still enjoying the work?”
“It’s for the family.”

She gives a bittersweet smile, gathering organs and machine parts, looking both pitiful and proud.
That’s what I like most about her.
It’s why she’s likable, why I smile.
Not romantic—just the satisfaction of seeing a good kid.
Pride, maybe.
For the family.
In Night City, few things are as valuable.
Family, love, friendship—those vanished first in this society.

She’s one of the few “normal” people to me… or close enough.
Her actions scream she’s far from normal, though.
In this cyberpunk worldview, she might be the standard, but to someone from the early 21st century, from a different society, she’s excessive in some ways, lacking in others.
Look at that.

“You’ll get in trouble if you’re caught.”
“Haha, no idea what you mean.”

She laughs innocently, wiping sweat, looking like a clueless worker.
But there she is, slipping a Sandevistan into her jacket among the MaxTac chaos.
Not for nothing I say she’s got guts.
For her family, she’d do anything, but if I were powerless, I’d probably be a terrified corporate s*ave, working my ass off.

“Not my business. Just don’t get caught.”
“Shh, old man. Of course I won’t. This ain’t my first rodeo.”

Stealing organs from corpses to sell isn’t something to brag about.
I half-wonder if she’s already been caught and let slide, but I hope that’s just me overthinking.

Brrring—

Here it comes.
It’s here.
The device’s vibration shakes my hand, lighting up the screen.
I glance at the blackened sky, then down at the glowing blue display.

“What’s got you so jumpy? Never seen you like this.”
“I’m not jumpy.”

It’s just the device buzzing.
I take a deep breath.
Nothing’s wrong.
Job’s done, city’s intact.
I’m ready.
I press the screen and bring it to my ear.

What, why’s it so quiet—

“Hey, you f*ck—!”