Cyberpunk: 2075

The moment Carl entertained the thought that the staggering figure approaching the NCPD officers might be a cyberpsycho, the man lifted his head.

A middle-aged man—his face scarred and riddled with deep grooves, like a battlefield map.

His cybernetic eyes rolled back, exposing only the whites, while the edges of his eye sockets revealed fractured mechanical implants, flickering with a strange yellow glow.

It was the kind of yellow light that reminded Carl of a traffic signal, flashing a cautionary warning.

One of the NCPD officers noticed the man's erratic approach.

Raising his Lexington, the cop was about to shout a warning, telling the guy to step back from the crime scene—

And then the man vanished.

Carl's pupils shrank.

For a moment, it was as if time itself slowed down.

The middle-aged man's body seemed to leave behind a trail of afterimages, closing the distance to the officer in less than a heartbeat.

Carl tried to react, but his body felt sluggish, as if he was moving through molasses.

His mind could process the speed, but his body couldn't keep up.

"Sandevistan?!"

Not everyone could perceive a Sandevistan-enhanced movement without having one installed themselves.

Carl could see it.

But the NCPD officer sure as hell couldn't.

All he knew was that his vision blurred for a split second—

And then his chest erupted in pain.

His instincts screamed at him to look down—

And when he did, he saw a long, mantis-like blade protruding from his chest, having pierced straight through his ribcage and organs.

Amidst the crimson mess, he could see something still twitching.

His heart?

The thought barely registered before the blade retracted—

And then, darkness.

"Mantis Blades!"

Carl was the only one who had seen everything unfold in real-time.

[Mantis Blades]: **Retractable forearm-mounted blades, highly concealable and deadly. A favored weapon among solos and bodyguards.

This guy had just used his Sandevistan to close the gap, then executed a single, precise strike straight to the heart.

Flawless. Efficient.

He had done this before.

Carl flashed back to the news report from the night before.

Those dismembered corpses.

The cyberpsycho in Kabuki that had vanished.

He was 80% sure that this man was the same guy.

"Watch out!"

Carl was still analyzing the situation when the remaining NCPD officers snapped out of their shock.

They raised their guns.

No hesitation.

A volley of Lexington gunfire erupted, each bullet finding its mark—

But the yellow-eyed man barely flinched.

The rounds hammered against his torso, but his subdermal armor absorbed most of the impact.

At best, it made his body tremble slightly.

And then—

A mechanical voice rang out.

"Subject Identified. Patrick Bell. Diagnosis: Cyberpsychosis."

"Shit, it's that psycho from yesterday!"

The NCPD officers' panic was palpable.

And as his name was called, the yellow-eyed man—Patrick—suddenly reacted.

It was as if a sliver of consciousness flickered back into his mind.

His movements became erratic, his body jerking and twitching like a machine breaking down.

And then—

He lunged.

The Sandevistan activated again, and once more, only Carl could see the streaking afterimage—

At the end of that blurred motion, the final stitch in a closing seam.

Another NCPD officer fell dead.

"Cyberpsycho!"

The terrified screams of the crowd erupted as panic swept through the streets.

The official spokesperson, who had just been praising the NCPD's bravery, threw all dignity aside and scrambled toward the news van, trying to hide inside.

The food stall owner, who had been prepping meals just moments ago, vaulted over his counter, joining a wave of terrified customers sprinting toward the Megabuilding complex.

And in the midst of the chaos, Carl set his sushi down.

That sushi wasn't just breakfast for Oliver and Jackie—

It had inari sushi for himself too.

He wasn't about to let it get ruined.

While the crowd rushed away in panic, Carl shook out his arms, turned in the opposite direction, and walked straight toward the ongoing fight.

A normal person facing a cyberpsycho would run.

But Carl was far from normal.

He had wanted to fight against someone using Sandevistan for a while now.

If anything, his only real motivation was to test himself—

And maybe make a little cash on the side.

How much was this psycho's bounty worth?

Maybe 10,000 eddies?

Getting paid for fighting over breakfast? Not bad.

Even cyberpsychos couldn't abuse Sandevistan endlessly—the human body had limits.

Having already used it twice, Patrick instinctively realized he had to pace himself.

Now, instead of teleporting across the battlefield, he broke into a sprint, charging at the NCPD officers, intent on slaughtering them.

The Lexington pistols in the cops' hands kept firing, but their bullets bounced uselessly off his subdermal armor.

Somewhere in their desperation, they could only scream into their radios, begging for MaxTac to arrive.

And deep down, every officer with a useless Lexington thought the same thing—

"I swear, after today, I'm buying a real fucking gun."

And then they saw Carl sprinting toward them.

"No way, not another one!"

At first, they thought he was just another cyberpsycho.

But then—

They realized his target wasn't them.

It was Patrick.

"I'll handle this guy. Just don't shoot me—my ass doesn't have subdermal armor."

His voice was too clear-headed, too calm.

But none of the NCPD officers felt reassured—

Because they were watching a young kid do what no sane person would ever do—

Charge straight at a cyberpsycho.

Everyone watching expected him to be ripped to shreds within seconds.

"Watch out!"

One older NCPD officer leapt from behind cover.

He didn't know why this dumb kid was rushing to die—

But there was no way he was just going to stand there and watch it happen.

Sure, he took bribes—a lot of them.

Sure, he shook down shop owners for protection money.

And yeah, if they didn't pay, he and his buddies made sure they regretted it.

But at the end of the day, he was still a cop—

And he wasn't about to watch a damn kid die.

"No need to worry."

Carl didn't bother explaining.

As long as the cops kept their shitty Lexingtons from hitting him, they could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

In his hands—

Monowire gleamed.