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Chapter 116 c
🕑 Added 2025-03-21 16:01:16 +0000 UTCChapter 116 c
Several comm requests came through, and a long list of names appeared on the retinal display—dozens of them, all at once.
Once everyone had joined, Leo spoke through the team’s comm channel.
“Can you all hear me? Good. From this moment on, to ensure success, everyone has to follow my orders. No charging in recklessly, no losing your cool. Got it?”
As soon as Leo finished, Susie—who had insisted on coming along to keep an eye on such a big operation—backed him up.
“Listen to him. Anyone who refuses can forget about coming back to work at Lizzie’s Bar.”
Early on, Susie had worried about how expensive it was to hire Leo and the others. But after they sabotaged the Jotaro Group’s Glitter shipment trucks and destroyed several production labs, all doubts had vanished. Even in a weakened state, the Jotaro Group was still huge and powerful—Susie never imagined that just her Mox squad could deal such a blow to one of the Tyger Claw’s most formidable factions. And now that Leo was leading them straight into Jotaro Shobo’s turf, she found the mercenary fee more than worth it. With Susie’s endorsement, none of the Mox women had any objections; even the usual hotheads who would sometimes mouth off to Susie stayed quiet.
Satisfied that everyone agreed, Leo nodded.
“Great. Now follow my instructions.”
He divided the assembled Mox into three teams. One was to circle around the back of Phoenix Casino and block any escape route the Jotaro Group might use. Another stayed here, ready to jump in at a moment’s notice. The rest went with Leo, heading straight for Phoenix Casino.
…
Phoenix Casino had three floors. The first catered to everyday customers—anyone could stroll in, grab drinks at the bar, or play pachinko machines. The second floor was strictly for VIPs, offering illicit braindances on top of the usual entertainment. As for the third floor, that was Jotaro Shobo’s private domain, home to his office and the studio used for recording and filming the black-market braindances. Regular patrons certainly weren’t allowed there, and even the Jotaro Group foot soldiers needed special orders before they could go upstairs.
Right now, the entire third floor was plunged in darkness—except for one lit room: the office. It was in total shambles. The desk had been hacked into pieces, the computer severed clean through, and even the cozy beanbag and round table in the corner weren’t spared. A ceiling fan had been ripped down and thrown onto the floor. This wasn’t the result of an attack. The culprit behind the carnage was none other than the office’s owner himself—Jotaro Shobo.
At the moment, Jotaro Shobo was shirtless, his body covered in scars and evidence of cybernetic implants. Most striking was the military-grade cyberware on his back, blinking with ominous red lights—the Sandevistan.
Anyone in Night City who worked as a merc would recognize the iconic design at first glance. This specific model was the Zetatech Sandevistan MK.2, a mass-market version, still expensive enough to make people’s eyes water. And it wasn’t just the time-slowing combat advantage or the huge cost that made the Sandevistan notorious; it was the risk. The Sandevistan was known to be the most taxing implant on the market, riddled with brutal side effects.
Think of it this way: implanting a Sandevistan was like lighting a fuse. Some people had high resistance—meaning their fuse was longer—while others had lower tolerance and a shorter fuse. Some couldn’t handle the implant at all, dying on the operating table from rejection or literally exploding the moment they activated it. Those with enough tolerance had to downgrade or remove it at the first sign of health problems, then seek proper medical treatment and rest. Usually, they could recover.
But keeping the latest version of the Sandevistan installed, without downgrading or going insane, was nearly impossible—Adam Smasher was perhaps the only living legend to have pulled it off. He’d walked among mythic names like Morgan Blackhand, Johnny Silverhand, and Andrew Weyland and was still active in Night City to this day, albeit doing Arasaka’s dirty work behind the scenes. Actual cyberpsychos would probably steer clear of him.
“You know Phoenix Casino belongs to you, right?” came a voice from nearby. “Wrecking everything here just means you’ll eat the losses.”
The speaker was a bald man wearing mirrored shades atop his shiny scalp, someone called Saiken—a trafficker responsible for the recent spree of disappearances in Watson.
Jotaro Shobo glared at him. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please. If you don’t like it, tough. You got a problem with me?”
Saiken raised his hands in surrender—Jotaro Shobo was clearly on edge, and no one wanted to catch a stray slash. Still, his interruption seemed to calm Jotaro Shobo a bit. The Tyger Claws lieutenant slid both blades into their sheaths and pulled on his suit jacket, hiding the glowing tattoos that traced across his body.
“Why the hell did Ichida Marcus and Hanakami Junna demote me? Who do they think they are, replacing me just like that?”
Ichida Marcus and Hanakami Junna were senior officers in Night City—Jotaro Shobo’s top superiors. Their domain included the Cloudtop club in Japantown and several other profitable areas.
“Speaking of which, Jotaro…you really have no idea who trashed your operation, do you?” Saiken asked, noticing the dark look that flitted across Jotaro Shobo’s face. “I’m not mocking you. I’m saying that whoever nailed your Glitter shipments, blew up three different labs, and predicted both the mayor’s and the NCPD’s moves so perfectly…you don’t suppose you might have pissed off some formidable figure?”
Jotaro Shobo paused, the words striking him like a jolt of clarity amid his tangled thoughts. Yet it felt like there was a missing piece—some half-familiar realization just out of reach.
Seeing Jotaro Shobo lost in thought, Saiken patted his shoulder and stood up.
“Think it over. If there’s nothing else, I’m out of here. You’re stuck in a rough patch, but it’s only temporary. Sooner or later, the Tyger Claw’s higher-ups will realize you’re still a hidden gem. When that happens, you’ll be back on top.”
No sooner had he spoken than a burst of gunfire shattered the late-night silence below. Saiken leaped like a startled cat.
“What was that?”
Jotaro Shobo, on the other hand, remained unsettlingly calm. “They’re here.”
“They?”Saiken echoed, still not fully grasping.
“The ones who dragged me down into this humiliating mess,” Jotaro Shobo snarled, his eyes flashing like a cornered beast.
“Damn it! Are you out of your mind? If they’re already outside, we need to get out of here!” Saiken figured whoever dared to bust into this place had to be packing serious firepower. Judging by the racket downstairs, most of the Jotaro Group goons must have already been wiped out. If he didn’t seize this chance to escape, he’d be done for.
Panicking, Saiken turned toward the emergency exit—but a gleaming blade barred his path. If he took another step, he’d impale himself on the spot.
