Today's mission was monster containment—first, verify authenticity.
New recruits weren't easy to come by, so training the existing crew had to come first.
The Kotaro rescue had been too easy, and Li Pan hadn't tested Rama's abilities. So this time he played "veteran babysitter"—letting Rama investigate while he slouched in the hovercar, ahem, "providing support."
"Boss, found it."
"…That fast?"
Li Pan had only just nodded off for half an hour when Rama came back holding a vase.
"Yeah, this one. Same as the photo. See? The pocket watch is still ticking."
Li Pan took the vase. A dirty blue-and-white porcelain thing. Nothing remotely "monstrous" about it.
Compared it to the mission dossier—it matched exactly.
Though QVN and the security system had recovered, chaos in 0791 had only just begun. Hashiba Group was in all-out corporate war for Takamagahara's legacy. Many prized antiques once under Takamagahara's keiretsu were now surfacing in back alleys—liquidated to fund "combat power."
The Company had flagged this one on a junk-shop website as a possible "procurement failure," so they sent out an investigation task.
Li Pan had expected a fake. But this… was real? And—
"Rama, how'd you get it? Bought it?"
Rama was blunt. "I saw no one in the shop. Eighteen said no surveillance nearby. So I just took it."
"…."
That worked?
Biosensors showed Rama's vitals normal. No anomaly. Even Li Pan felt nothing weird holding it.
Could monster containment really be this simple? Then what the hell was that "procurement failure" before?
Better cautious than sorry. Li Pan told Rama to keep the vase in the car. If anything stirred, return to base. Then he went to the junk shop himself.
It was a tiny shop—residence upstairs, storefront downstairs, peddling level-1 and level-2 civ-grade goods. Street empty.
Inside was an old man in a corner. Rama had said "no one was inside." True—because the man couldn't see him.
Like the red-dressed woman "Headband," but far weaker. So weak Li Pan figured he could swallow him whole with one breath of Nine Yin skill.
"Hey, boss, I'm buying."
He waved a hand in front of the old man's eyes. Nothing. Staring blankly at the door.
No answers here. Li Pan slipped upstairs, broke open the second-floor lock.
Rotting stench. The old man was long dead. A liquefied corpse on tatami—ooze soaking bedding, yellow-green pus and clumps like mung bean congee.
Li Pan stepped closer, plugged Eighteen into the local laptop, rifled through photos and belongings.
The man's name: Tamura Hiroshi. Once a soldier in the Martian Marines—a new service branch, like the Starfleet, trained for planetary assaults. Elite planetary infantry, dropped in first to clear alien infestations. Many frontier veterans had such service records.
Tamura never reached "king of soldiers." After discharge he worked as a driver-bodyguard for Company execs. One mission crippled him. No funds for surgery. Wife ran off with her lover, children ignored him. He ran this tiny junk shop, scavenging to survive, until he died alone in his ancestral home.
The vase? No detailed record. Tamura sometimes picked up discarded goods from Company warehouses. Old war buddies mailed him inheritance items. He'd upload photos online for sale. The vase had been listed for half a year—Company intel had only just flagged it.
Apart from his lingering "soul" in the corner—unlike ordinary dead who fade into white smoke—there was nothing else suspicious. Cause: either strong willpower, or long-term vase exposure. Hard to say.
"Fine. Mission done. Write the report."
Rama had it absurdly easy. Li Pan stored the vase in the Headquarters Thermostatic Warehouse—the "Yellow Zone."
The warehouse system: Blue / Yellow / Red zones, each with 7 sublevels (F50–F56, F57–F63). One monster per floor. Blue Zone—minimal measures. Yellow/Red—kept "lights out," meaning stored in extradimensional containment. Costly, so usually only temporary until external warehouses were built—on Earth or even in space. TheM Company even kept stockpiles on asteroid bases.
In Yellow Zone, F50–F54 already filled with legacy mess. Li Pan deposited the vase in F55.
Then he checked Red Zone F58—the "Bedsheet." Practiced Nine Yin strikes against it. His ten-ton super-punch couldn't tear it. But channeling cyan sword-qi into his fingertip, he could puncture a hole—though it healed instantly. Still, proof it could be broken. Monkey Sword had its merits after all.
But Li Pan was low on food and energy. No sense wasting strength. He logged "Containment" and "Testing" reports.
The Company was generous—rewarded both him and Rama with silver keys.
Rama was dismissed for free time—still uneducated, relying on Eighteen's DeepNet videos.
Meanwhile Li Pan and Ah Qi discussed recruitment.
"So that sexy OL from the interview turned us down? Pity. These professionals aren't easy to fool. Maybe better to focus on engineers, cyberdocs, finance or accounting."
"But those are hot jobs, elite white-collars. They'd make more than 2,500 a day. Hard to recruit."
"I know. But we need to rebuild Tech Department. With Takamagahara dogs tearing each other apart, lots of office drones will be purged, desperate. We can scoop them up. Disposable when needed. Win-win."
"Alright, boss. I'll talk with Eighteen—maybe try Takamagahara's internal forums."
Truth was, only desperate cases like Kotaro had accepted. The rest refused three years at 2,500.
Li Pan understood: monster containment didn't need elite professionals. Either natural freaks like him, or lucky ones like Rama. The rest were expendable. With enough "temp labor," containment parameters could be tested by brute force. True backbone staff would come later from campus recruitment.
Another workday passed, busy yet empty. Near clock-out—alarm rang.
"Thermostatic Warehouse Containment Breach!"
What? He'd turned the lights off!
He rushed with Ah Qi and Spider Drone, armed, into Yellow Zone F55.
No gore. Just—the vase had multiplied.
Two vases.
Lights off, then on again—four vases.
Each passed the pocket-watch test. Each felt like ordinary porcelain in hand.
"…Ah Qi, your opinion?"
Ah Qi typed: "Self-replication mechanism suspected. Without containment method, potential disaster."
Indeed. Exponential replication meant extinction-level threat. Yet it had lain dormant in the shop for months. Perhaps triggered by "lights out."
"Alright. Eighteen, dig into Tamura's background. Who he drove for, his networks. Trace the vase's history. Meanwhile, store it in the office. Spider will monitor it. If replication begins, alert me."
"Yes, boss."
And Li Pan clocked out.
Overtime? Never. Not even for world's end.
But side jobs were fine.
He rode the subway to Old Capital District, following Kotaro's map into a ramen shop's back alley, down into sewers, and into a massive bomb shelter: Reincarnation Bar.
Reincarnation was neutral ground, founded by an otherworlder since Takamagahara days. Unlike "Peace Hotel," it embraced violence—clients were killers, mercs, spies. Death was part of the trade.
At the entrance, two punks tested him—gun and knife. Before they spoke, Li Pan sidestepped, snapped the gunman's neck, then shattered the knifeman's wrist, gutted him, ripped out his heart.
Onlookers swallowed curses. Even the bouncers stepped aside, letting him in. Violence was the best pass.
Inside, Reincarnation sprawled across multiple floors—clubs, bars, shops, brothels, auction halls. The greatest underground den of Night City.
Li Pan, broke with only 5.32 credits, ignored all temptations, and found the reserved room.
Kotaro wasn't there yet. But the young master of the Fuma family had already prepaid. Bikini android waitress served fruit and soda. Li Pan emptied the fruit tray, half the soda, before Kotaro arrived…
"You—who are you?"
"Manager, it's me. Kotaro."
The "woman" before him—gold wig, heavy makeup, contact lenses, micro-dress—looked like a club hostess.
"Don't recognize me? My disguise art hasn't declined, then."
Li Pan nearly vomited. "What the hell! Why did you swap cyberware?!"
Kotaro, serious: "I didn't. This is Fuma Disguise Art. Essential for covert ops. Also, don't call me Kotaro. This ID is inconvenient. Call me Annie."
Realizing he hadn't actually modified his body only made Li Pan more disgusted. "Ugh! Why half-ass it? Might as well full package! Just tell me where Shura Association is and we'll storm it!"
Annie-Kotaro explained: "Their clubhouse is extreme—death games, only loyal patrons. You need an introducer. Sometimes they recruit courtesans. Risky, but I'll infiltrate. I swallowed a tracker. Here's the program. Don't worry, Manager. I will redeem myself this time!"
Li Pan was moved. "Fuma Annie—you'd go this far for the team's side hustle! Good. Go. I trust you."
.
.
.
⚠️ 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.
🔗 patreon.com/DrManhattanEN