Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 803, Section 13: What a Cyber ​​Psychopath!
Shortly after the first cyberpsychopath began to act, all cyberpsychopaths had been eliminated.

There were a total of 25 cyberpsychotics who went insane, a number that could cause catastrophic accidents and harm in any neighborhood. However, with the help of the Terrorist Mobile Unit and the cooperation of NCPD personnel, the entire group was dealt with in just five minutes and twelve seconds.

Melissa Rory's tactical boots crunched uncomfortably over the sticky pool of blood on the ground, the dark red liquid, not yet fully congealed, stretching into thin threads beneath her feet before snapping in an instant.

She stopped in front of Karl, her blood-stained metal prosthetic finger resting on the mask buckle. With a soft 'click,' the half-mask, along with the thermal imager, was lifted, revealing a face as white as porcelain stained with blood—a few splattered bloodstains made her skin appear even paler, almost transparent.

“All the lawless trash has been cleaned up.” As she spoke, a bead of blood, still wet at the corner of her mouth, slid down her chin. “From today onward, the Terrorist Mobile Unit will continue to swear allegiance to the NCPD, just as before.” Melissa suddenly chuckled, a smile that caused the congealed scabs on her face to crack. “Or rather—”

Melissa Rory took a half-step forward, the ceramic armor of her tactical suit almost colliding with Karl's chest.

Her blood-tinged breath brushed hotly against the other's neck, her military-grade pupils flashing a dangerous red light as they rapidly contracted and focused: "Swear allegiance to the winner who stood on the highest point of the corpse pile."

She roughly tore off her blood-stained, tattered tactical glove, letting it fall into the congealed pool of blood with a dull thud.

Her bare fingers gleamed coldly under the neon lights: "Violence for violence, might makes right—" Her voice was hoarse like rusty gears, "This is our rule. Now, I express my loyalty to the Terrorist Mobile Unit to you, KK."

“I’m satisfied that you’ve indeed fulfilled your duties.” Carl stepped aside slightly and walked past Melissa with composure, as if she weren’t just a police officer who had dealt with a dangerous colleague with cyberpsychosis.

His tone was as calm as if he were discussing the weather: "It doesn't matter which powerful person you want to pledge allegiance to, even if you swear allegiance to me. I don't care about these things."

His shoes ground over a broken mantis knife blade, the sharp, razor-sharp alloy fragments groaning under the weight of his boots. As Karl stepped forward, the blood-stained blade struck the marble floor, producing a strange, reverberating sound.

“I’m not that madman Brick from the Vortex Gang, and I have no interest in being brothers with a bunch of potential cyberpsychotics.”

A searchlight from a police drone flying in from the entrance swept across his profile, illuminating a faint smile on his lips: "As long as you can continue to do your job well like you did today, that's enough."

"It's my duty."

Melissa-Lorry repeated Carl's words in a low voice, her prosthetic eye gradually losing its red hue in the dimly lit hall and beginning to glow coldly.

Her gaze slowly swept over the mess—broken prosthetic parts, still twitching mechanical limbs, and cyber psychiatrists lying in pools of blood, all wearing the same uniforms.

She had to admit that Carl was right.

They are the Violent Terrorist Mobile Unit, born to eliminate cyberpsychosis. No matter what happened before, they are ultimately just fulfilling their duty—to maintain order in the city in the face of cyberpsychosis with bullets and blades.

"but."

Just as Melissa was lost in thought, Carl suddenly turned around. He smiled, the light from the police drone scanning his face cutting sharp lines of light and shadow: "I must give special praise to you dedicated members of the Terrorist Mobile Unit."

His voice carried a gentle sense of praise and reassurance: "You have done a great job. I will personally apply to the director for a bonus, and the latest models of military cybernetic bodies and armor will be prioritized for distribution to the Terrorist Mobile Unit."

Carl kicked away a still-smoking shell casing at his feet. "After all—you guys set a record for eliminating twenty-five high-risk cyberpsychotics in a single day. That's really well done. Let me praise you and reward you."

Hearing Carl's words, Melissa's pupils contracted slightly, and her irises made an almost imperceptible adjustment sound. She watched Carl's receding figure, and her tactical boots unconsciously crushed a piece of congealed blood scab.

What to say?
A formulaic thank you? Just minutes before, their guns should have been pointed at each other.

If it weren't for her remaining professional instincts overcoming the madness of cyberbullying, she and her surviving teammates might be lying in this pool of blood right now.

But if there's absolutely no gratitude...
Melissa's hand tightened involuntarily, and the mantis knife in her arm made a slight sound as it needed to be adjusted after being slightly damaged during the cutting.

Carl's actions were indeed beyond reproach. As a special commissioner of the NCPD, he had every right to label the entire out-of-control Terrorist Mobile Unit as cyberpsychotic and eliminate it.

The corpses lying all around were all traitors who had drawn their guns first, and what he was now giving them was a luxurious gift: a second chance.

"Crazy," she suddenly twitched the corner of her mouth, the vulgar word squeezed out from her blood-stained, slightly rosy lips, carrying a somewhat absurd smile.

The latest model of prosthetic body, the full bonus, and continued institutional status—these privileges that should have been lost forever because of their betrayal were so easily returned.

Melissa looked up and saw Carl's back crossing the last security line. In front of him were the busy NCPD members, none of whom forgot to greet him.

Melissa could tell that her prosthetic eye could detect changes in a person's physiological characteristics. It could analyze body temperature, pupil contraction, and subtle tremors of facial muscles. Whether those smiles were real or fake, they were all clearly visible to her.

Now, in her eyes, every smile is genuine, and every face is so sincere.

Each of them carried a joyful and enthusiastic atmosphere rarely seen in Night City.

"What a cyber lunatic! Saying we're crazy, but how much better are you? I think you're way crazier than us." She muttered under her breath, only to realize that she was opening the communication channel, preparing to relay the news of equipment updates to her teammates.

In the distance, surviving terrorist mobile unit members were silently collecting the dog tags of the fallen, the clanging of the metal tags ringing out sharply in the empty hall.

(End of this chapter)