"Shit, that was close! That was fucking intense!"
As the van descended from the overpass into Little China, the towering Militech skyscrapers finally vanished from sight. Only then did C finally relax his tense muscles, slumping against the passenger seat.
Years of firefights and clashes with cops and corp security had made him unfamiliar with this kind of "peaceful" escape—so smooth it almost felt unreal.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Roqi, grinning in the backseat.
That guy had turned an unused EMP into a deadly trap.
The poor Militech bastard who opened the transport's back door got a full face of electromagnetic death. Anyone within ten meters probably didn't walk away. They heard the explosion echo all the way from Corpo Plaza.
The van rolled deeper into Little China, slowly approaching the rendezvous point in the northern industrial district.
"Wanna open it up?" Roqi asked, pointing at the crates on the floor and exchanging a look with a grumpy-faced Dragan.
"Sure," D nodded.
Roqi reached over, unlatched the clasps, and released the final lock. The contents of the crate were finally revealed.
"What the hell is this?"
Inside were alloy plates, individually packaged and stacked neatly.
"Subdermal armor, infused with rare earth elements. Forged near the mining site," Mower explained. She picked one up, tore off the protective layer, and felt its weight and texture. "These are raw materials. They still need processing."
"Subdermal armor? Shit, did we just get ripped off?" C leaned forward from the passenger seat, alarmed.
"No, this isn't your average armor," Mower said flatly, flicking the plate with her finger. "This is woven surface armor. No electronics, but incredibly durable. Resistant to stabbing, slicing, and even offers some kinetic protection. It's flexible and hard as hell to pierce."
"And that means...?" C gulped.
"Even the civilian version of this quality runs fifty eddies per square centimeter," Mower said, tossing the plate back. "A full neck cover takes about 400 square centimeters. That's why it costs so damn much."
The crate held hundreds of ten-by-ten alloy plates. Even at civilian prices, the value easily crossed a million eddies.
Dragan popped open the other crates. Same contents.
"So, how much can we sell this for?"
Roqi poked at a plate, shivering at the thought of grafting this stuff onto his skin, then layering it with Biotech synthetic flesh.
Everyone turned toward Mower with hopeful eyes.
"Military-grade gear like this usually moves on the black market. Pricing depends on demand," she said, disinterested.
Translation: it's rare. Treat it like treasure.
"Damn, we really hit the jackpot," C whistled, flashing his signature grin.
"Regina will know what to do with it. Let's ask her," Roqi said.
A good fixer might take a cut, but they had the connections and reliable channels to move the goods. Worth the loss.
"What about this one?" Roqi picked up a smaller case—similar in size to the relic container. "It's not heavy."
"Eh... Why does this one need a password!?"
Red error symbols flashed across the panel.
"Let me see," T-Bug stepped in, her eyes glowing blue. "Huh, it's a dynamic password."
"What's that?" Roqi asked.
"Old-school tech, still super secure," T-Bug explained as she worked. "Usually involves a password card. Terminal sends coordinates; the card sends back a number. Sometimes it uses dynamic algorithms..."
"So is it hard to open? Can we just break it?" Dragan frowned.
"Got it," T-Bug said, eyes returning to normal.
"Got what?"
Then she casually popped the lid open like a wardrobe.
Inside were two ocean-blue cylindrical objects, nestled in foam.
A strange scent filled the air. Indescribable. Unfamiliar.
Roqi picked one up, turning it in his hands. Bowl-width, hollow, slightly tapered, with a sleek streamlined design. The walls were about two fingers thick.
"What is this?"
He tried slipping a hand inside, but the diameter was too narrow. Not a forearm guard.
He glanced at Mower, who shook her head—no clue.
It rang like metal when tapped, but flexed slightly when squeezed.
No one recognized it.
[Unknown device detected. Connect now?]
"It's not a power source, not a bioweapon... So why's it so heavily secured?" D said, glancing in the mirror.
"Maybe it's some rich guy's toy?" C grinned, winking.
Dragan slapped the back of his head. "You losing it? I'd rather screw a toilet paper roll."
T-Bug sighed.
Only Mower noticed Roqi freeze. Then he forced a smile and winked at her.
His heart was pounding.
Half an hour later, in a warehouse in the northern industrial zone, Regina arrived with her assistant.
While C and D daydreamed about how to spend their payout, Dragan patrolled the second floor. T-Bug had already bounced after getting paid. Roqi sat on a crate chatting with Mower.
Regina nodded at them, gave Mower a glance, then started talking to D.
After some quick calculations, the three armor crates were sold for five million eddies. Full payment. Regina would handle resale and profits.
According to Mower, the stash could be sold gradually over years. High rarity. High value.
"What about this? Any idea what it is?"
Roqi kicked the small case toward Regina.
She crouched, opened it. Her assistant inspected one of the items, snapped pics, asked contacts. No results.
"You want to keep this?" D asked.
"Honestly, yeah. Could be something valuable," Roqi shrugged. "But how do we split it? Can't cut it in half."
"500k, or we get 80% if you sell it later," D offered.
"You trust I'll send the money?" Roqi smirked.
"We can use a fixer. But you don't seem the type to ghost us." D looked at Regina, then back. "So, taking the second option?"
"No. 300k. I bet it's worth at least that."
C raised a brow. "Could be junk. Might just have research value."
"I was going to offer 400k, but fine," D said. He transferred the funds.
"500k total. 80/20 split. Minus 300k. You get 700k. Good doing business."
Roqi grinned and shook hands with D and C. The rest—Regina's and the captain's cuts—weren't his problem.
"Can I get your names?"
"Dallas," D replied.
"Chains," said C. "Got more work? Hit us up. I like your style. That guy up there is Dragan. But remember us."
Dragan flipped him off.
"Lucky. Mower. You know us already," Roqi replied.
They parted ways.
Roqi and Mower strolled through backstreets, then called a Delamain ride two klicks away.
"You know what it is," Mower said in the back seat.
Not a question. A statement.
She'd seen through him. Every feigned doubt and hesitation earlier was an act. Their entire negotiation had been coordinated through unspoken trust.
"Nothing gets past you," Roqi laughed, pulling out the blue cylinders.
[Connection complete. Welcome to Rockman Technologies.]
The voice rang in his head. Mower didn't hear it.
Roqi wasn't wearing his old samurai outfit now—just casual gear. Following the prompt, he rolled up his pants, exposing his lower leg.
Click click click—
The devices snapped onto his calves like wolves on prey. A flurry of metallic clicks. His shins transformed—mechanical, angular, sleek.
Then... they vanished beneath his skin.
Gone.
!!!
"What the hell is that!?" Mower's composure shattered. Since the day she went cyberpsycho, Roqi had never seen her so rattled.
Roqi's legs went numb. Then came the system prompt.
[Rockman Leg Enhancement Unit—Land Assault Model 3—Applied.]
Leg enhancers?
Cyberware?
He gently raised his leg and tapped it. Looked and felt normal.
"Ever heard of Rockman Technologies?" Roqi asked.
Mower shook her head, more stunned than ever.
Unknown name. Unknown tech.
What kind of black tech was this!?
.
.
.
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
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