"Damn it! Mophead, you're out of your mind!"
On the other end, Warrenstein immediately kicked Li Pan out of the Ghouls' comm channel.
Well, killing a Cerberus soldier was bound to have consequences.
Even though the Taiping District's public safety system was offline now—meaning no surveillance and no criminal record—Li Pan knew enough about military organizations to understand that any unit capable of deploying spider-type combat drones on a large scale would've already set up its own anti-jamming military comms LAN.
That drone had already scanned and uploaded his psych evaluation report. Anyone in the combat zone with half a brain would know the killing was tied to him. By now, the nearby drones had probably all received his facial image and a kill-on-sight order.
Li Pan didn't care much—he just had to get out. Cerberus wouldn't dare kill someone in full view of public surveillance. Probably…
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Rising fireballs of orange-red sealed off his retreat. The drones unleashed a barrage of remote artillery fire, scattering cluster bombs and incendiaries in a relentless bombardment. The blocks leading to the Taiping District highway exit were all turned into a sea of flames.
They didn't hesitate. Having corporate ammo budgets sure had its perks.
But Li Pan didn't slow down—he charged straight toward the blast zone under fire.
He couldn't stop, couldn't take a detour. The soldier he'd just killed had clearly been the sole guard for a large surrounding area—someone arrogant enough to ignore wartime protocols and discipline to shake down the Ghouls.
If he didn't take advantage of the moment—before the main Cerberus force came to exact revenge—he was as good as dead.
Sure, Cerberus had reacted quickly, using incendiaries to cut off his escape. But that was a tactic meant to intercept combat units.
Fools—grandpa's Superman! Just leap the fire wall!
Running a quick simulation on Xing Tian, Li Pan plotted a safe route through the flames, then followed it at full speed—scaling a nearby apartment building and parkouring through the stairwells.
Say what you will, but Level-4 bio-enhancement made you fast and strong. He sprinted up over ten floors without breaking a sweat. He'd even mastered a kind of "lightness skill"—as long as he controlled his breathing and pushed all his power into his legs, he could spring forward like a frog with steel springs.
With rapid bursts of speed, he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, clearing the firestorm in a single bound, and landed in the highway buffer zone.
He had to admit—it was exhilarating. Tumbling forward a dozen times, he finally slammed into a safety barrier and stopped. A normal man would've been flattened like a pancake, but he felt fine. Not even a tear in his suit—just a bit of dust.
Yep. Learned something new. No need to wait for elevators anymore.
BANG!
Just as he got up, he felt a heavy punch to the back. He pitched forward, seeing his right hand—and a chunk of flesh—fly away in the same instant.
His Level-4 ballistic vest was worthless—like paper. Even his Level-4 enhanced body was nothing but bloody tofu under that kind of hit.
A sniper. Shooting through the cover of the buildings, hitting through the heat distortion of the firestorm—these wild dogs were good.
And if they had that kind of skill, yet hit his right hand instead of his head, it meant they were planning to toy with him.
Figures. Pest Control troops were always psychos.
Li Pan wasted no time—jamming a full dose of enhancer into his neck. He grabbed the shredded end of his right arm, twisting muscle and arteries together, then snatched up the containment jar with his left hand and sprinted low along the highway wall.
It hurt, sure—half his body shredded by shrapnel hurt like hell. An ordinary person would've blacked out. But Li Pan had lost limbs before, and his body was a lot tougher now.
So, despite losing half his side to a single shot, he didn't even grunt—just got up and ran.
Cerberus didn't fire a second shot.
Probably thought they'd found a fun toy to play with later.
Considering Xing Tian had just been force-linked by Cerberus, and could be tracked by their hackers, Li Pan didn't dare log into QVN for help while fleeing. Luckily, he was in the city now—he hailed a smart taxi from a roadside terminal straight back to the company for a reset.
In Night City, you might not be able to trust your brothers-in-arms, but you could always trust a taxi.
Your brothers might ditch or betray you, but a taxi would always be there—at the exact place, at the exact time.
Because taxis were part of the public transport system—fully automated, emotionless, and interest-free. As long as you were a law-abiding citizen, you could use them to reach any civilized corner of humanity.
Of course, the system had its drawbacks. First—you had to be a system-registered citizen, not wanted or blacklisted. Second—it was expensive.
Insanely expensive. A short hop in a flying cab straight to the company parking lot—less than ten minutes—cost him 400 credits just to start! Orange's grocery-getter was only about 13,000 total—and you could get a used one for half that. Maybe he should buy a car…
Bleeding all the way, Li Pan got to the office and used the archive cabinet to restore himself.
This time, not just his hands—his suit was restored too. Clearly, as a contracted company partner, he also enjoyed archive protection.
But the archive cabinet had its limits. His Level-4 enhancements from Nine Yin Body Refinement were "non-resettable"—no need to retrain, but his "internal energy" reserves were depleted from the escape and hadn't been restored. He'd have to rebuild them nightly.
The real loss was that his 49,500-credit cybernetic system had also been reset—Xing Tian and the ballistic processor were gone.
Fine—Xing Tian was probably flagged by Cerberus anyway, maybe even infected. But the ballistic processor had been in his left hand—why wipe that too? Outrageous!
And of course, reset or not, the loan still wasn't wiped.
This wasn't sustainable—system-linked chips were too expensive to keep replacing. There had to be another way…
"There is. Don't want an internal chip but still need net access? Use a DreamVisor headset. Or just mod your military comms unit," said Eighteen casually.
With Warehouse Seven still under renovation, the company's tech consultant was at an old computer, pecking out her daily report with two fingers.
She had time to spare, so she dismantled Li Pan's rented gas mask, pulled the merc squad's comm earpiece from inside, hooked it to a tablet, downloaded a new UI, and quickly patched him into his QVN account.
"Citizen Li Pan—account balance: 783.17…"
"Nice. It works…"
Hearing the synth voice in his ear, Li Pan was speechless.
Eighteen went back to typing.
"The security system was designed for military comms. You need military service to get citizenship for this reason—any account with an input device can connect. Old external devices are insecure and fragile, so they've been replaced by neural implants.
"If you really want to stick with an external device, once Big Snake is set up, I can make a private company server. The devices would be just access points—records and accounts stored in the cloud. No need for a personal chip.
"But your system access logs would all be stored on the company server. Is that okay?"
"No problem—it's just for emergencies. Not like I'm using the company computer to watch porn. Do it."
External net access gear came in many forms—old VR goggles, headsets, tablets. With implants the norm now, those were just consumer tech—open patents, easy for any workshop to 3D-print and assemble for hobbyists.
The gear still sold today was mostly military—built to resist ECM and electromagnetic chaos. Not much cheaper than implants, missing the latest features, but at least archives couldn't wipe them.
Eighteen rested her chin in her hand.
"Still, I'd suggest a modern chip. There's no such thing as perfect security—HT's Chaos Servers aren't unbreakable. As a citizen, system support is better than nothing.
"And I've only got one Big Snake. If a top hacker team really wanted your account, don't blame me—they'd take me out first."
Li Pan grinned. "I trust your skills, Eighteen. Besides, I'm a nice guy—there's less than 800 credits in there. What hacker would waste time on me?"
Eighteen glanced at A Qi, who was mopping a huge bloodstain at the entrance, then looked back at her "nice" boss with doubt. But fixing the GM's tech was part of her job, so she let it slide.
Li Pan noticed she was checking the tech department's logs, and remembered they hadn't cleaned that area yet.
"By the way, can you shut down the drones in the tech department?"
"HQ sent me the equipment logs. The tech department still has net ports—new military drones with high-energy batteries, resistant to jamming, hardwired for access. They're basically mobile subnet servers. Once you authorize me, I can take over the locks and security net.
"But I'm just a programmer. If any of the gear is physically damaged, we'll need an electrical or mechanical engineer too."
"Oh, I'm a combat engineer. Give me the specs and blueprints and I can—"
He froze.
"Wait. Eighteen—you're saying this is a three-person job? GM authorizes, programmer takes over, engineer repairs?"
"…Yeah. Why?"
Li Pan nodded seriously. "Exactly. No way I'm doing two people's jobs. I want a raise. No raise—hire more staff. Don't spoil the capitalists!"
"…."
Eighteen narrowed her eyes. Her boss might be crazier than she was—he needed meds.
A Qi, now rinsing the mop, held up a sign:
Better scout the tech department before sending people in. Hire armed guards—campus security can't enter offices.
"Exactly! A Qi, you're right—guards! I'm a GM without a single bodyguard? Embarrassing!"
You should hire HR first. Our turnover's too high for us to do all the interviews ourselves. Also, are you okay? Your pants are dripping blood.
"Oh, it's fine. Meat in my pocket got squished…" He thought for a moment. "Alright—A Qi, you handle interviews. Eighteen, make a list of gear we need and just buy it. I'm heading out."
He grabbed a random "monster containment" job, took a company car, and went to the Lovers' Gang's church to deliver something from Taiping District to the Pastor.
"You didn't have to come in person… What's this? Couldn't you put it in a jar?"
The Pastor had been about to shake his hand, then frowned as Li Pan pulled a bloody lump from his pocket and shoved it into his palm.
"My enemy's liver. Didn't you say you were holding a memorial for Big Bear's family? Use it as an offering."
"…Might be a cultural thing, but we usually honor the dead with their belongings—not their enemies' organs. Still, I appreciate the thought."
The Pastor quickly handed the organ to a bodyguard and wiped his hands.
"I've contacted Lena's relatives—they're getting temporary permits. I'll let you know when the funeral date is set."
Li Pan shook his head. "Better if I don't—don't want to cause trouble."
"You shouldn't blame yourself. Good deeds don't always yield good results—but the fault lies with the world, not with the deed."
Li Pan nodded. "The world's messed up, that's for sure. But really—I killed a Cerberus soldier. I could get sniped any day. Better not risk innocent lives."
The Pastor glanced at the mangled meat. "…Alright. May the Lord protect you."
Li Pan felt guilty. The Pastor was a big figure—he wouldn't be paying out of pocket for Big Bear's family, helping them move, and arranging a funeral unless he wanted ties with the Monster Company and its GM.
Yet the Pastor hadn't mentioned money—he'd even prepared resumes for the hires Li Pan had asked him to vet. Clearly, he valued the relationship more.
Connections were everything. Having someone as well-connected as the Pastor on your side made life in Night City much easier. Yesterday, he and A Qi had only managed to hire Eighteen; Kotaro was still in evaluation.
Flipping through the resumes—over thirty in total—they were all experienced blue-collar workers with families to feed. Clean records, nothing worse than a traffic violation.
They were almost too honest—most were migrant workers with temporary permits, none full citizens. No system-level benefits, and no willingness to risk deportation with a crime. Technically, they didn't fit the Monster Company's hiring profile.
But Li Pan knew—as long as they had a paycheck, they'd rather die on the job than lose it.
Without a steady contract, they'd lose their permits, be evicted from cheap housing, and end up in garbage dumps—either joining gangs or scraping by outside the city in toxic wastelands.
Compared to those irradiated, mutant-roach-infested badlands full of rogue weapons, rebels, and refugees, even a hellhole like Night City was paradise. People lined up to get in, while those inside dreamed of getting out.
That was Night City.
.
.
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⚠️ 30 CHAPTERS AHEAD — I'm Not a Cyberpsycho ⚠️
The system says: Kill.Mercs obey. Corporates obey. Monsters obey.One man didn't.
🧠💀 "I'm not a cyberpsycho. I just think... differently."
💥 High-voltage cyberpunk. Urban warfare. AI paranoia.Read 30 chapters ahead, only on Patreon.
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