The cop was still fuming.
One second he was minding his own business, casually leaning against a barrier and scrolling through his feed while collecting his hourly paycheck. The next, some random guy grabbed him by the collar and yanked him into a conversation he never asked for.
And not just any guy—he looked like a cyberpsycho. Smug attitude, scarred face, that twitchy edge you only see in people who've danced on the edge of death one too many times. The kind of guy the NCPD was paid to pretend didn't exist unless a corpse was involved.
The officer's hand instinctively went to his sidearm. One good excuse and he'd plaster this lunatic's head all over the street.
But then... he saw it.
A faint click, followed by the quiet hum of something mechanical unfolding. The man's forearm split open with surgical precision, revealing a sleek red mantis blade. It flicked out an inch, like a snake's tongue testing the air, the neon edges shimmering with high-frequency heat.
It stopped an inch from the officer's jugular.
"Hey, hey!" the officer stammered, his tone flipping faster than a corposlut dodging taxes. "W-We're good! You're a five-star citizen! A model of Night City integrity!"
"Damn right I am," Arthur replied, retracting the blade and lighting a cigarette like it was just another Tuesday.
The cop straightened up and forced a smile, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
"So what's the holdup?" Arthur asked, eyeing the rows of patrol cars and barricades. "Traffic's jammed for blocks. Not like NCPD to throw a parade unless someone's been dismembered."
The officer glanced down the road and sighed.
"There's a hostage situation at the bank. Couple of ex-corporate war vets decided to relive the glory days. Blocked themselves in tight, loaded up with stolen Arasaka gear. Got some VIPs trapped inside, too. So yeah—real mess."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Hostage situation? In Night City? What happened to shoot first, ask questions never?"
"We tried, alright?" the officer snapped. "But these guys are pros. Got the whole place rigged with trip mines and auto-turrets. Can't just storm in unless we want to repaint the lobby with civilian guts."
David stepped out of the car and joined Arthur, eyes wide with excitement. "A real robbery? No way!"
"Don't get too hyped," Arthur muttered. "This ain't a BD. These guys are probably high on rage, and they'll blow the place if someone sneezes wrong."
The two strolled toward the edge of the police perimeter, where a crowd of officers, drones, and armored transports had gathered. Overhead, a Kang Tao hover-drone buzzed ominously, casting a long shadow over the city square.
Then, as if on cue, a high-end AV descended from the sky like a divine hammer of law enforcement.
Its rear doors hissed open, and out stepped a woman clad in jet-black tactical gear, face half-obscured by a sleek combat helmet.
Melissa.
Arthur smirked. "Well, if it isn't Night City's scariest sweetheart."
Melissa spotted him and instantly broke into a trot, completely ignoring the briefing officer she was supposed to report to.
Arthur opened his arms wide, expecting a dramatic reunion hug.
Instead, Melissa drove her fist square into his gut.
Arthur doubled over, wheezing like a faulty vending machine. "Jesus, woman! I haven't even insulted your haircut yet!"
"You broke my Higurashi!" Melissa snapped, folding her arms like a pouty child. "Now it's all sluggish and won't respond. You killed the soul of my blade!"
Arthur groaned. "It's a mantis blade, not a damn spirit animal."
Still, he reached up and flicked her forehead. "Come by my workshop. I'll rebuild it for you. Hell, I'll even upgrade it—might make it actually useful this time."
Melissa brightened immediately, clutching his arm like a schoolgirl at a concert.
The nearby members of the Terrorist Suppression Team gawked in silent horror. Was this the same Melissa who once cut a guy's legs off for coughing during a briefing?
Arthur gave them a casual nod. "She gets like this when she misses me. Don't judge."
"Uncle..." David started to say.
Melissa turned, eyes narrowing. David immediately froze.
She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.
David swallowed hard. "Uh... I mean, Miss Melissa, ma'am, tactical goddess of the wastelands?"
She smiled.
He sighed in relief.
Arthur looked past them toward the bank. The building had clearly seen better days—its once-pristine windows now covered by makeshift barricades and flickering anti-scan panels. Several drones hovered nearby, keeping a distance while beaming telemetry back to command.
"What's the status?" Arthur asked.
Melissa's expression turned serious. "Three robbers. Former corpo black-ops. Heavily modded. Took a dozen hostages, including a few execs. We tried sending in negotiators—got nowhere. Place is wired with enough explosives to level a block."
Arthur scratched his chin. "So... the usual."
Melissa nodded. "Yeah. But worse. These guys know the standard breach protocols. They've countered every tactic we've thrown at them."
Arthur leaned in and whispered something in Melissa's ear.
Her eyes widened.
Then she started grinning.
"You're serious?"
Arthur grinned back. "I'm always serious. Just... not always sane."
Melissa pulled out her holo-pad and started giving orders.
Within ten minutes, a woman in her late sixties, clad in a wrinkled nightgown and fuzzy slippers, was escorted to the scene by a pair of confused-looking officers.
The woman looked around, bewildered. "Is this about my son again? I told him to stop hanging out with those tank-heads!"
The negotiators brought her to the front of the police line. A loudspeaker was handed over, and a brief message was transmitted into the bank.
Within moments, gunfire erupted inside.
Then silence.
A door creaked open. One of the robbers stumbled out with hands raised.
Behind him, two others followed, dragging their injured comrade and swearing profusely.
"Okay, okay! We surrender! Just get her outta here!" one of them screamed, pointing toward the old woman. "She's worse than corporate prison!"
Arthur folded his arms and watched as NCPD cuffed them one by one.
Melissa leaned close. "Your plan worked."
Arthur smiled, taking a deep
drag from his cigarette. "Never underestimate the power of an angry mom."
------------------------------------------------------
Visit our Patreon for more:
patreon.com/Samurai492