Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 634, Section 48: Managing the Terrorist Mobile Unit?
Just as Carl and Oliver were about to grab a drink with Crispin Wayland, whom they were meeting for the first time, and catch up on their mercenary careers, a member of the Terrorist Mobile Squad, who had finished asking the local residents about the situation, walked over.

Carl recognized him at a glance; this was the same person who jumped off the hovercar, recognized them immediately, and was very likely the one who had done them a favor.

Carl considered his words carefully before saying, "Officer, is there something you need?"

The Terrorist SWAT team is a group of active personnel under the management of the NCPD. Carl wasn't really sure what the most appropriate term would be for this special unit, since few people would dare to confront them directly. But calling them officers would be a safe bet.

The member of the terrorist squad, addressed as "police officer," paused noticeably, clearly for the first time hearing someone address him that way. However, he quickly dismissed this issue of address.

He, or rather she, took off her helmet.

"Thank you for your care, KK."

As the helmet came off, chestnut-brown short hair fell loose, revealing a face with a prosthetic eye but an unexpectedly gentle appearance.

Carl raised an eyebrow: "Melissa Rory?" He examined the faintly visible heat sink on the other woman's neck. "What a surprise, you're still alive—and even a member of the Terrorist Mobile Unit."

Melissa Rory, who had brushed past Carl on the street, only to realize that Carl recognized her Sunshade Mantis Blade, assumed Carl was one of her kind and followed him into an alley to test her cybernetic mental illness. Later, sensing the threat Carl posed, she instinctively ran away, only to be stopped by Andy who arrived in time. Then, just as Carl and Andy surrounded her and were about to capture her, she was subdued by the arriving Terrorist Mobile Team who slammed her down from mid-air.
At the time, Carl saw her miserable state under the feet of the Terrorist Mobile Squad and thought she was definitely not going to survive. But now, looking at the extent of her cybernetic modifications, it's clear that she survived that kind of injury. Also, the Terrorist Mobile Squad was really short of people, and they managed to save her and recruit her into the team despite that kind of injury.

Carl wasn't too surprised that Melissa Rory was now a member of the Terrorist Mobile Unit, as such things were commonplace. What surprised Carl more was that Melissa Rory was still alive.

"They did survive."

Melissa's vocal cord vibrator emitted a slight electrical noise, a lingering effect of her fractured spine. Even the medics in the Terrorist Mobile Unit admitted that pulling her back from the brink of death was 60% skill and 40% luck—after all, they needed every madman who could still handle a gun.

She subconsciously touched the neural interface on the back of her neck, where some residual scars still remained. "One of two options," a red light flashed in her mechanical eye, "a mental hospital, or..." She gestured to the Terrorist Mobile Squad insignia on her clothing: "become a member."

"Then it seems the choice isn't difficult to make."

Carl nodded in understanding.

Cyberpsychosis members who join the Terrorist Mobile Unit are never "cured"—that's just empty rhetoric in the NCPD's holographic propaganda. They are simply fitted with more sophisticated chains: nerve inhibitors, adrenaline-regulating modules, and sedatives that are forcibly injected every 48 hours.

Melissa's mechanical fingertips unconsciously tapped the armor plate on her thigh, a habitual motion she made before drawing her mantis knife. Karl was all too familiar with this rhythm—like a caged beast pacing back and forth.

"Do you know how they convinced me?" Her voice was tinged with an eerie chuckle. "They said there was a reward for killing someone here."

The Terrorist Mobile Unit doesn't need psychiatrists; they just need to mark the training grounds for rabid dogs above the city and then loosen their collars. After all, in this city, a legal killing permit is much cheaper than antipsychotic drugs.

"I have no problem with this."

Carl noticed that Melissa Rory was now struggling to suppress a certain emotion, but he felt that compared to the past when she would come knocking on his door after he merely glanced at her, the fact that Melissa Rory could now control herself was undoubtedly a significant improvement. Who said the Terrorist Squad didn't have a cure for cyberpsychosis? Wasn't this treatment very effective? A cyberpsychopath who was on the verge of going insane at any moment was now even concerned about legal killing and restraint—it was practically a miracle cure.

Carl glanced at the cyberbully who had been dead for some time on the ground: "After all, it's good to have more people doing good deeds."

"Doing good deeds"

Melissa Rory noticed Carl's gaze and looked at the pile of mud as well, letting out a contemptuous snort: "He's just too weak. We don't want just anyone."

"It's about the issue, not the person. No matter what you guys think, the arrival of the Terrorist Mobile Unit will at least put people facing cyberpsychosis at ease, although if they don't run fast enough, they might get caught in the crossfire."

Carl watched as the Terrorist Mobile Squad's hovercar slowly approached from the sky, emitting a red warning sound, seemingly reminding the Terrorist Mobile Squad members to retreat. He then spoke again to Melissa Rory, saying, "I heard the NCPD is going to put you on leashes again?"

Upon hearing Carl's words, Melissa suddenly froze like a malfunctioning hologram, and when she finally turned her neck, the mechanical joints emitted a tooth-grinding grinding sound.

“We don’t care about regulations.” She tilted her head, her prosthetic eye’s pupils shrinking to pinpoints. “As long as the people who come are capable enough. The veterans in the team all say that a former NCPD chief once thought the same thing—he sent his most prized elite to take over the Terrorist Mobile Unit, and well…”

The hovercar's turbine suddenly shrieked, the roar shattering the rest of her sentence, but Carl saw Melissa Rory's lips moving amidst the sound—"Even the ashes have been scattered."

As long as you can fight.

The reason the Terrorist Response Team (TRRT) can receive corporate funding and special grants from the city council is simply because the order they maintain happens to align with the interests of capital. In Night City, no one wants to see their employees being openly attacked by cyberpsychotics in the street, especially those employees who can still be squeezed for profit. The NCPD wants to take over again? Fine, first prove you can offer a price that satisfies the company.

Is being able to fight the only form of order?

of course.

A group of ruthless figures keep the area in check, preventing stray dogs from baring their teeth in the street—doesn't that count as profit?
Of course it counts.

The companies don't care about the NCPD's intentions. The story has already been played out once. As for whether the NCPD has the ability to finish the show, that's another matter.

As Carl watched Melissa Rory and her squad members reposition themselves, leaping from the open ground into the hovercar, he turned his head as well.

You need to be good enough at fighting.
Andy, your special operations team still needs to work harder.

The NCPD manages the Terrorist Mobile Unit and has the power to control its forces.
If it really existed, how much change would it bring to the city?

It's really exciting.

(End of this chapter)