206-210

Chapter 206: The Greatest Honor is to Be Devil-dono’s Dog 

“Those damn corporate dogs!”  

Ted Mosby cursed under his breath. With his father bedridden, the weight of the entire clan’s affairs now rested on his young shoulders. The fiery spirit of youth burned in him, urging him to seek justice for his people.  

But reality was a harsh sensei. The Red Ochre Clan was struggling to get by—otherwise, they wouldn’t have taken on the job of testing cold medicine of all things. Let’s be real, it’s not like they were that desperate for eddies (credits), but testing drugs? That’s not a gig you take unless you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel.  

And now? They didn’t even have enough cash to hire someone to take out Joanne Kochi. She wasn’t just anybody—she was the regional R&D director for Biotechnica, practically the daimyo of their research division in Night City. That kind of status wasn’t small-time. Her security was top-notch, and with Biotechnica’s military muscle in Night City, she could pretty much order a hit on anyone with a single message.  

Taking out someone like that? Forget whether anyone would even dare take the job—the price tag would be astronomical, way beyond what Ted Mosby and his clan could afford.  

After all, not everyone was like V Shinken, sweet-talked with a few compliments and sent off with pocket change.  

And yet, standing right in front of Ted Mosby was a fresh-off-the-train “V Shinken” who’d just rolled into Night City. Problem was, this V was a total shinjin (newbie). Barely any cyberware to his name—probably couldn’t help even if he wanted to.  

Vincent frowned as he listened. Honestly, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to help—he just didn’t think he could. Who wouldn’t want to make some eddies? But assassinate Biotechnica’s regional R&D director? You might as well put a bullet in his head and save everyone the trouble.  

“Let’s go check on your father first,” Riku said, breaking the tension. Talk about perfect timing! If he could heal the Red Ochre Clan’s leader, wouldn’t that be like delivering a sakura mochi straight to their doorstep?  

“And this guy is…?” Ted Mosby asked cautiously, eyeing Vincent and Tran Buckle. No way was he going to trust some random stranger enough to let them near his dying father without some answers.  

“Our new boss, Devil-dono,” Tran Buckle replied smoothly. He could see it clearly: while Jack Welles seemed to be the one calling the shots among V, Jack, and Riku, the real shogun of the trio was Devil.  

“You two… left the Buckle Clan?” Ted Mosby’s eyes widened in shock. A nomad leaving their clan was a big deal, practically taboo. But then he thought about the Buckle Clan’s situation—internal strife, external threats. Nomad life wasn’t exactly a shonen adventure these days.  

“It’s better for everyone this way,” Vincent said, cutting in. No point in dragging things out—why waste energy fighting each other when they could just part ways?  

“Fair enough. Snake Nation’s no paradise either. Just living under someone else’s roof,” Ted Mosby nodded. Nomads weren’t exactly thrilled about merging with other clans.  

“Devil-dono’s a master of iyaku (medicine). He might be able to fix your problems. Don’t worry, it’s free,” Vincent said, steering the conversation away from the Buckle Clan drama.  

“For real?!” Ted Mosby blinked, stunned. He hadn’t expected these three to show up specifically for this.  

“We’ll see what’s what. I’m here because I need some people to handle things out in the Badlands. That’s why I made the trip,” Riku said bluntly, cutting through the fluff. Heal your people, work for me—simple as that.  

“No problem at all! If you can save my father and the others, the Red Ochre Clan will repay you!” Ted Mosby’s response was just as direct. Riku’s straightforwardness put him at ease—demands were way better than mysterious kindness.  

Riku gave a nod, sealing the deal. Ted Mosby was sharp, no doubt about it.  

“This way, please,” Ted said, his tone much more respectful now. If this Devil guy had the guts to show up, he must have some serious jitsuryoku (skills).  

The group headed to a tent where Ted’s father lay. Ted’s eyes reddened at the sight of his father, barely clinging to life.  

“Hiss…” Tran Buckle let out a small sound, immediately regretting it. It was rude, sure, but he couldn’t help it—Old Mosby’s condition was straight out of a horror anime.  

The man’s body was falling apart. His skin was peeling off, his flesh rotting. He looked like a zombie from a post-apocalyptic shonen flick.  

Vincent held his breath, barely keeping his expression in check. He was honestly shocked the guy was still alive.  

“No way this is from cold medicine,” Riku said, throwing out a tsukkomi (retort). What kind of cold medicine does this? Even chugging antibiotics with sake wouldn’t leave you like this!  

“That’s how he came back,” Ted explained. Now it clicked for the trio—Biotechnica had already done their damage and sent him back. Even more shocking? He was still alive after that.  

“Probably because of his status as the Red Ochre Clan’s leader,” Ted added, though he wasn’t entirely sure himself. Hardly anyone came back alive, which was why the clan eventually stopped cooperating with Biotechnica. If you’re just gonna die, might as well stay home.  

His father hadn’t hesitated. After signing the contract—a desperate decision the clan made together—he was the first to take the drugs. As the leader, he couldn’t exactly sit it out.  

“Give me a sec,” Riku said, stepping forward to examine the man. The tent was surprisingly well-equipped—clearly, the Red Ochre Clan had been trying their best.  

“Devil-san, be careful! Don’t touch him directly—it’s contagious!” Ted warned, tensing up as Riku moved closer.  

“Got it,” Riku nodded. He knew about the “Nightingale Project”—some kind of Biotechnica super-soldier or gene-modding experiment. Old Mosby’s condition screamed gene collapse, like his DNA had been shredded by a katana.  

The patients taken by Biotechnica were subjected to brutal experiments. Most nomads died from excessive electromagnetic stimulation—hardly something you’d associate with “cold medicine testing.”  

Riku didn’t hesitate. He started checking the medical bed’s data. With his current learning ability, his skills were improving at a shonen protagonist pace. Medicine? He was light-years ahead of where he started. At least he could make sense of the data now.  

It was clear: Old Mosby’s genes were collapsing. Joanne Kochi, a veteran gene engineer, was behind this. It made sense she’d be working on something like this.  

“This thing’s definitely contagious,” Riku muttered, clicking his tongue. Physical contact with the oozing sores would spread it, and unless you wanted to end up like Old Mosby, you’d have to slice off the infected part to survive.  

“It’s giving biohazard virus vibes,” Riku said, collecting a sample in a test tube. It was prime research material. Say what you want about Joanne Kochi, but she had skills. Biotechnica was all about cutting-edge research, and you didn’t climb to regional R&D director without serious chops.  

Of course, Kochi took shortcuts—using live subjects for everything. That’s a Pandora’s Box situation. Once you open that door, good luck closing it.  

“How’s it looking?” Ted asked, a flicker of hope in his voice. If Devil was confident enough to come here and even wanted the Red Ochre Clan under his wing, he must be pretty damn sure of his medical skills.  

“NoFAC0“No problem,” Riku said, giving a thumbs-up. Then, under everyone’s stunned gazes, he placed his hand directly on Old Mosby’s head.  

“!”  

Ted’s eyes nearly popped out. He’d just warned him about the infection! Vincent and Tran were equally floored. This Devil guy was way too reckless! Their new boss couldn’t get himself killed by a virus before they even got started!  

But they didn’t know Riku well enough yet. If Jack or Street V were here, they wouldn’t have batted an eye.  

[Conversion Complete: Servant “John Mosby” Acquired.] 

Name: John Mosby 

Abilities: Oni Transformation (Regeneration, Weakness to Sunlight, Cannibalistic Tendencies)  

Riku activated his ability, turning John Mosby into an oni servant. Gene collapse? Just reconstruct the genes and call it a day. No side effects, problem solved! Well, except for the cannibalistic tendencies—but that’s better than being dead, right? Plus, staying out of sunlight would give him crazy regeneration powers.  

Riku didn’t bother giving Old Mosby immortality or extra powers. No need—he was just a tool to manage the Red Ochre Clan. This was enough.  

The rest of the clan’s infected would be healed with Riku’s Rc cell treatment. He’d brought plenty of suppressants, so he could go wild with it.  

“Ugh…”  

Old Mosby stirred, his vision returning. His rotted eyes had regrown after the transformation.  

“Father!” Ted rushed forward, his face a mix of shock and joy. It was like a dream—his father’s body was regenerating, like time itself was rewinding!  

“Ted, what’s…” Old Mosby looked at his son, bewildered, then at Riku. His expression was a whirlwind of elation, shock, and gratitude.  

He was overjoyed to be alive, stunned to feel his body healthier than ever, and grateful to Riku. From the information Riku had transmitted to him, he understood his new reality.  

There was no choice to make. Being Devil-dono’s dog was the greatest honor!  

“Devil-dono, thank you for saving my life. From now on, the Red Ochre Clan will serve as your loyal retainers!” Old Mosby pushed past his son and knelt before Riku. It wasn’t just for himself but for the infected clan members. Only this man could—and would—save them.  

“Father…” Ted was dumbfounded. How did his father figure everything out so fast?  

“Don’t worry, I’ll save them,” Riku said. Old Mosby was quick to accept his new role—life had clearly smoothed out his edges.  

To keep the Red Ochre Clan alive and ease their survival crisis, Old Mosby had even taken experimental drugs. Working for Riku? Way safer than that. Plus, Riku had saved his life—he owed him everything.  

“Gather the patients. Let’s make this quick,” Riku said to the Mosby father and son. He wanted to handle it all at once, no need to go tent by tent.  

“Right away!” The two rushed off to organize the clan. With Old Mosby as a living example—the worst case of them all—the others had no reason to doubt.  

Vincent and Tran stood there, jaws dropped. They’d thought Riku might be skilled, but after seeing Old Mosby’s state, they’d had doubts.  

But this? This was reviving the dead, mending bones level! And honestly, it didn’t even feel like medicine anymore.  

“What’re you standing around for? Go help,” Riku nudged the stunned duo. Snapping out of it, Vincent and Tran rushed to assist. Soon, the entire camp’s patients were gathered, their faces lit with a hope they hadn’t felt in ages.  

Chapter 207: Words Dripping with Cannibalistic Intent 

Riku wrapped up treating the patients in no time. Honestly, there weren’t that many left—most had already been snuffed out, victims of a cruel system. 

The ones still breathing? They were the real lucky ones. They hadn’t been shipped off to the biotech corps, hadn’t been screwed over by Joanne Kochi, and now they had Riku, the one guy who could actually fix them up. 

Unlike Old Mosby’s crew, these patients weren’t in that bad of shape. The drug they’d been dosed with wasn’t exactly a health tonic, but it was a slow burn, not the kind that kills you on the spot. After all, the biotech corps needed live bodies for their experiments. Dead ones don’t serve much purpose when you’re trying to push the boundaries of science. Their goal wasn’t murder—it was finding warm, breathing test subjects. 

“Thank you, Devil-sama!” a grateful voice rang out. “The Red Ochre Clan will do everything in our power to repay your kindness!” 

Led by Old Mosby, the rescued patients swore their loyalty to Riku with hearts full of gratitude. Even those who hadn’t been dosed with the drug were just as thankful. When they heard Riku was offering them jobs—real work, so they wouldn’t have to scrape by in the wastelands anymore—their gratitude was no less intense than those whose lives he’d saved. 

Setting up a camp and turning it into a smuggling hub and rest stop? For the Red Ochre Clan, that was child’s play. Building camps in the badlands was second nature to nomads like them, and smuggling? That was just another Tuesday for anyone driving a rig across the wastelands.  

Plus, with Vincent and Tran Buckler—ex-Buckler Clan pros who knew their way around a smuggling op—lending a hand, the camp would be up and running in no time. 

“We’ll move the whole camp over there,” Old Mosby declared without hesitation. The spot was an old Buckler Clan haunt, so settling in wouldn’t be an issue. No worries about basic survival out there. 

Nomad life wasn’t exactly a picnic, and with all the factors at play, Old Mosby didn’t think twice about hitching his wagon to Devil-sama’s star. The rest of the Red Ochre Clan didn’t bat an eye either—moving camp was just another day for a nomad family. 

“Go for it,” Riku said with a nod, not surprised by the decision. 

Vincent, Tran Buckler, and Ted Mosby, on the other hand, were floored. They hadn’t expected Old Mosby to move so fast, deciding to uproot the entire clan just like that. 

“That Joanne Kochi? I’ll take care of her,” Riku added, his tone leaving no room for doubt. Joanne Kochi had to go. 

First, her whole operation was straight-up vile. Riku wasn’t some saint with a sky-high moral code—he could stomach human experiments if they were consensual or used scumbags as test subjects. But Kochi’s methods? They were low, even for Night City’s standards. 

Second, the fact that all the Red Ochre Clan’s patients had suddenly been cured would probably tip Kochi off. She’d be expecting more test subjects, and when she didn’t get them, she’d come sniffing around, stirring up trouble. Better to strike first than wait for her to make a move. A preemptive hit would catch her off guard, and Riku planned to wipe out everyone involved in her “Nightingale Project”—no survivors. 

Right now, the biotech corp was distracted, tangled up in the mess with N54 News and that Securicine painkiller scandal. They probably wouldn’t see this other skeleton in their closet getting exposed. 

Let’s just say, when your hands are that dirty, it’s only a matter of time before the bomb goes off. Even without Riku, the Red Ochre Clan would’ve eventually scraped together enough eddies to hire someone to take Kochi out. In the end, that job would’ve landed on the lap of the infamous V. 

“Thank you again, Devil-sama!” Old Mosby and the victims of Kochi’s schemes poured out their gratitude once more. 

Tran Buckler had a sudden epiphany. So that’s it! The Red Ochre Clan was so quick to fall in line because they’d already cut a deal with Riku. And why wouldn’t they? Taking out someone like Joanne Kochi, a regional R&D director for a biotech corp, was no small favor. 

Of course, the onlookers had no clue about the real truth. They didn’t realize Old Mosby had already become one of Riku’s most loyal followers. Not even Ted Mosby, his own son, picked up on it. He just thought his old man was repaying a life-saving debt. 

With the job delegated, Riku parted ways with the group and headed back to Night City alone. Vincent and Tran Buckler stayed behind with the Red Ochre Clan to help with the move for a bit. Sure, the clan were nomads, but the new spot was Buckler Clan territory—Vincent and Tran knew it like the back of their hands. With their help, the job would go twice as fast, and they’d be back in the city in no time. 

Once back in Night City, Riku hit up his “fixers” to dig up dirt on Joanne Kochi. He reached out to his usual go-to’s: the Priest and the Old Captain. Those two were solid—tight-lipped and reliable, never letting info slip. 

“Joanne Kochi? What’s the deal with her?” the Priest asked, curiosity piqued. He knew the name, of course. In recent years, she’d been behind some of the biotech corp’s hottest drugs. A young star researcher who’d climbed to regional R&D director—quite the big shot. 

“To take her out,” Riku replied bluntly. 

The Priest paused, then didn’t press further. Killing corp dogs? There was no such thing as an unjust hit when it came to them. Especially someone as high up as Kochi—every one of them had blood on their hands. Kochi was no exception, tied to some nasty rumors. 

“Gimme a sec, I’ll dig around,” the Priest said, getting to work. He didn’t have much on Kochi since he’d never gotten a job tied to her before. 

“Joanne Kochi’s home address is here, but she’s usually holed up in her lab. No set schedule,” the Old Captain chimed in, his info coming through first. He’d clearly looked into Kochi before—patients in Santo Domingo had been hit by her schemes, so her claws had reached that far. 

“Thanks, Old Captain,” Riku replied. 

Kochi was a workaholic, spending most of her time in the lab, with no fixed hours. Sometimes she’d crash there for days. Ambushing her would be tricky—no way to plan around that kind of schedule. 

“Then I’ll just hit the lab,” Riku decided. No need to go in guns blazing—stealth was an option. The biotech corp’s lab had tight security, but for Riku, slipping in and out wasn’t a big deal. 

“I found a woman named Emilia Morton, a biotech corp employee who’s been quietly investigating Kochi. There’s also a Dr. Diana Kuno, a key member of Kochi’s research team. She’s highly trusted. Hope that helps,” the Priest came through with more info. 

Kochi was careful, as expected for someone of her status. Getting to her directly wouldn’t be easy, but her inner circle? That was a softer target. 

“Diana Kuno, you’re up,” Riku said, locking onto his target. 

Kuno wasn’t exactly a saint either. She’d climbed to the core of Night City’s biotech research team, and nobody got that far without stepping on a few corpses. The Priest had her address and her usual haunts—clearly well-researched intel. 

“This Kuno chick botched an experiment big time and pinned it on a subordinate. Then she had them flatlined to cover it up. The info comes from the subordinate’s family—they’ve been itching for revenge,” the Priest explained. 

Kuno’s fate was poetic, really. She’d taken the fall for Kochi in the end, silenced just like her own subordinate. What goes around comes around. 

“Thirty grand to take her out too,” the Priest offered. It was a meager sum, but it was all the dead subordinate’s family could scrape together. 

“Consider it done,” Riku agreed. 

In Night City, this kind of thing was just another day. The subordinate probably wasn’t innocent either, but that’s how it worked. Everyone knew the risks, yet they still clawed their way up the ladder, ready to backstab or be backstabbed. Kuno, the subordinate, even that corp hotshot V—they were all the same, caught in a system that ate people alive. 

That night, in Charter Hill, Riku waited for Diana Kuno to show up. He wasn’t planning to confront her directly—just plant a shadow mark on her. With that, he’d be able to track her straight to the lab the next day. 

Kuno didn’t look old, but in this era, looks meant nothing. Anti-aging tech made it hard to guess anyone’s real age. She was a nobody who’d climbed the ranks, probably in her thirties or forties—a real “young prodigy” story. No background, no connections—just the kind of person Kochi would pick to take the fall. 

People like her were completely under the corp’s thumb. One wrong move, and the company could freeze her assets, lock her out of her own home, cancel her trauma team platinum plan, and even shut down her cyberware. A loyal corp dog, tethered by an invisible leash. When the master says die, you don’t get a say. 

Kuno stepped into her fancy apartment, not far off from the kind of place a big shot like Ziggy Q might call home. She exhaled, clearly thinking she’d made it. This wasn’t her endgame, though—she had her sights set on North Oak, the elite district, dreaming of crossing that class divide. 

“That bitch Kochi always hogs the credit. I need to figure out a way to screw her over,” Kuno muttered, already plotting as she stepped inside. She had no love for her boss and would jump at the chance to take her place. 

“Gotta use Emilia Morton. That naive idiot’s gonna get herself killed by Kochi sooner or later. She’s dumb enough to openly defy her,” Kuno said, shaking her head as she changed and hopped in the shower, completely unaware of the shadows creeping into her room. 

The next day, Kuno went to the lab as usual. She wasn’t just a paper-pusher—she had real skills, which gave her some clout in the lab. Even Kochi treated her with a degree of respect. But respect didn’t stop Kochi from taking credit for the team’s work, which drove Kuno up the wall. 

“Where’s Dr. Kochi?” Kuno asked as she entered the lab. 

The other researchers pointed to the office. Of course, Kochi had her own private space—multiple, even. 

“Moved out?” Kochi muttered, frowning, her short, ear-length hair framing her youthful face. She wasn’t in a great mood. The Red Ochre Clan had bailed on their contract, and no test subjects had shown up today. 

“Those idiots, always screwing things up,” Kochi growled, pissed at the clan’s failure to deliver. They’d signed the deal, but if they couldn’t hold up their end, that was their problem—not hers. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

The office door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in,” Kochi called, hanging up her call. 

The door clicked open, and Kuno walked in, all smiles and deference. She was good at playing the part. 

“Dr. Kochi, no test subjects yet?” Kuno asked politely. 

“We’ll make do with the ones we have. There’s an issue with the supply,” Kochi replied, not bothering to hide it. They both knew the game. 

Buzz. 

As soon as Kochi spoke, a shadow darted from Kuno’s clothing, spreading across the wall like a doorway. A figure stepped out. 

“Devo Collins!” Kochi and Kuno froze, recognizing him instantly. This was the guy who’d been giving their biotech corp hell lately. 

“Nice to meet you, Doctors,” Riku said, his voice calm behind his mask. Before either could respond, shadow tendrils shot out, wrapping around their arms, legs, and necks, pinning them side by side against the wall. 

This wasn’t about to turn into some spicy doujin scene—it was straight-up horror movie territory. 

“Sorry to break it to you, but your dirty little secrets are out. I’m here to collect your lives,” Riku said, not waiting for a reply. 

The tendrils tightened around Kochi and Kuno’s necks, slowly squeezing. Death crept in, inch by inch, until a final crack—their heads slumped forward. 

Chapter 208: Joanne Kochi’s Research Results 

“You got off easy,” Riku said casually, glancing at the pained, contorted faces of the two researchers. Compared to the atrocities they’d committed, dying by slow suffocation was practically a mercy.  

Riku wasn’t one for sadistic torture, though. Letting them choke in silence, unable to beg for mercy as the air drained away, was punishment enough—mental and physical agony wrapped in one.  

After dealing with the two, Riku didn’t rush out. Instead, he rummaged through the office, hunting for anything related to the Nightingale Project.  

And jackpot—he found it. The Nightingale Project was a top-tier research initiative, no wonder it was led by someone like Joanne Kochi, Biotechnica’s regional R&D director, with heavy hitters like Diana Kuno on the team.  

The project was backed by Militech, and its goal was straightforward: a Super Soldier Program. Militech wasn’t aiming for invincible warriors who could go toe-to-toe with an ACPA (Assisted Combat Personal Armor). They just wanted to churn out mass-produced super soldiers, cutting down on training time and costs.  

It was a realistic goal—no crazy shonen-style dreams of creating monsters.  

“No wonder they’re so cocky. Militech’s got their back,” Riku muttered, skimming the project brief. The research was like a watered-down Super Soldier Serum—not quite Captain America-level, but still terrifying for regular folks. One dose, and you’d turn into a kinniku-man (muscle-bound beast).  

If this thing got perfected, it’d slash soldier training time to bits. Pair the Super Soldier Serum with BDs (Brain Dances) for simulated combat experience, and you’d have battle-hardened warriors in no time—strong and seasoned.  

BDs alone could give you experience, but they didn’t bulk up your body. The serum fixed that problem.  

“Progress is slow, though. They’re nowhere near done,” Riku noted, cracking open Joanne Kochi’s computer and pulling up the Nightingale Project files. He saved everything—might as well stand on Kochi’s shoulders and whip up his own version later.  

And it wasn’t just about super soldiers. The research could branch into RNA viruses. Kochi had skills—give her a Captain America project, and she’d leap straight to Resident Evil.  

With the data secured, Riku opened the office door. Outside, the lab team was buzzing—some genuinely working on old experiment data, others just pretending to look busy for the higher-ups.  

When they saw Riku step out of Kochi’s office, a few who’d been watching froze, dumbfounded.  

They didn’t even register the danger until black shadows crept from Riku’s feet, slithering up the walls and engulfing the entire lab.  

“Davo Collins! He’s stormed the headquarters!”  

The shout finally snapped them out of it. Researchers scrambled to flee, but there was nowhere to go—the exits were sealed by Riku’s shadows. Some tried attacking the shadowy walls, but it was futile.  

“We’re trapped…”  

A few gave up entirely. They’d seen the news—Riku’s shadow room had tanked a full-on bombardment from Biotechnica’s forces. Without weapons, they had no chance of breaking through.  

“Anything I can do for you, sir?” one quick-witted researcher piped up, ready to play along and stall until the company’s rescue team showed up.  

“Oh, sure. Gather all your research data and hand it over,” Riku said with a grin.  

The researchers let out a collective sigh of relief. If they were useful, they might live!  

“Right away!” they chirped, diving into the task. But their sluggish pace gave them away—they were clearly stalling, hoping to drag things out.  

Splurch!  

A shadowy tentacle shot out, piercing a researcher’s heart and dropping them instantly.  

“AAAH!”  

Panic erupted. They didn’t get why Riku had suddenly turned killer—though deep down, they knew. They just didn’t want to admit it.  

“Slackers die. The last group to finish dies. Mess up the data, you die,” Riku said, still smiling.  

The researchers’ faces went ashen. No more tricks—they scrambled to compile the data, racing against the clock.  

The Nightingale Project had been running for a while, with tons of data split across different teams. Now, those teams were in a cutthroat race to avoid being the last to finish.  

“We’re done!”  

The first group handed over their work. Riku cross-checked it against the files he’d already pulled. He had the data, just not the latest updates—the last group report was from a week ago. He wanted to see what progress they’d made since.  

“Useless. A whole week and nothing new,” Riku said, rolling his eyes. At least they hadn’t fudged the data, banking on him not noticing.  

Soon, the second, third, and fourth groups submitted their work, leaving two teams neck-and-neck in a life-or-death sprint.  

One group finished just ahead, faces beaming with relief, while the last group looked like they’d seen a shinigami.  

“Sorry, but there’s errors,” Riku said, flipping the mood.  

“What?! No way!”  

The second-to-last group gaped in horror, exchanging frantic glances. How could they have screwed up?  

“We didn’t mess up! We’re clean!” the last group cried, practically throwing their data at him like it was a lifeline.  

“You thought you could fool me? That’s a death sentence,” Riku said, baring his teeth.  

Countless shadow spikes erupted from the walls, skewering the bloodstained researchers in a gory instant. Blood sprayed everywhere, coating the lab.  

Riku’s shadow shield kept the blood off him. Glancing at the bodies, he decided to light a fire. With all the chemical reagents around, a few flammable ones did the trick, and the lab went up in flames.  

The fire alarms didn’t even get a chance to blare—Riku’s shadows blocked them. By the time they kicked in, the blaze was too fierce to stop.  

“Fire!”  

Riku shadow-leaped out, and as his shadows faded, thick black smoke poured out, alerting Biotechnica’s employees.  

“It’s the R&D director’s lab!”  

The workers quickly realized it was Kochi’s lab, and their rescue efforts kicked into high gear. Saving the regional director’s life? That’s a one-way ticket to a promotion.  

But the fire was fiercer than expected, and no one dared rush in. Worse, aside from the crackling flames, the lab was eerily silent—way too abnormal.  

Something was off, and they knew it. No one moved, waiting for the company’s rescue team.  

Boom! Boom!  

Explosions echoed as the fire raged. By the time the rescue team put it out, the lab was a charred husk, the bodies unrecognizable.  

“Arson,” one rescuer concluded. It was obvious—nobody escaped, and there were no signs of struggle in the fire.  

“They were all dead before the fire started,” a rescuer reported to Valentini, Night City’s branch manager, who’d just arrived.  

Valentini’s face darkened. Talk about a tsunami of bad luck. They’d barely settled a backroom deal with N54 News, and now the Nightingale Project—their biggest Militech-funded gig—had been gutted, along with the entire research team and data.  

This was a massive project, bankrolled with Militech’s eddies. There was no way to explain this disaster.  

“Can we figure out who did it?” Valentini asked, his voice tight.  

“No dice. The cameras are all blacked out,” the rescuer said, helpless. Not a single frame showed anything unusual—no outsiders entering, nothing. It was like the lab had imploded in some internal revolt.  

But that made no sense. The doors weren’t even locked—how could everyone die instantly?  

“Damn it! Find the culprit! Find the reason!” Valentini snapped, losing it. If he fed Militech some weak excuse, they’d think Biotechnica torched the lab to cover up a failed project and scam their funding.  

Sure, Valentini had skimmed some eddies, but the project was legit, run at top specs! This wasn’t his fault!  

“Yes, sir! We’ll do our best!” the team replied, though they knew it was a long shot. If they couldn’t find the culprit, they’d have to make one up.  

“Mr. Valentini! Check the news! WNS News—they’re breaking the story!” a subordinate rushed over, holding a tablet.  

Valentini grabbed it, eyes glued to the WNS broadcast—an emergency report.  

“Good evening, this is Arif Iqbal with breaking news from Biotechnica.  

A fire has broken out in the Nightingale Project lab, a joint venture with Militech. All researchers are dead, with no survivors. Authorities have ruled out an accidental fire—this was deliberate, though the perpetrator’s identity remains unknown.  

Our sources reveal the attacker acted out of revenge. The Nightingale Project was highly unethical, violating multiple international laws and Night City regulations. Biotechnica used live human subjects, coercing them with drugs, money, or contracts, resulting in over a hundred deaths.  

WNS News calls for Night City officials and the NCPD to investigate and deliver justice for the victims!  

That’s all for now—stay tuned for updates.”  

The broadcast ended, and Valentini smashed the tablet in a rage, face red as a kabuki mask. There was a traitor in the company!  

Or maybe not—maybe the culprit leaked it. Few outside Kochi’s lab knew the full scope of the Nightingale Project. Kochi’s secrecy was airtight; even within Biotechnica, hardly anyone knew what she was up to.  

“Who the hell…” Valentini muttered, calming himself. Then it hit him.  

“Davo Collins!”  

No evidence, but the more he thought about it, the more it fit. Collins had those weird abilities—when he hit Ziggy Q’s studio, he didn’t exactly walk in.  

“Find him! We need him!” Valentini barked. Whether it was really Collins didn’t matter. They needed someone to pin this on, and he was it.  

“Yes, sir!” his team groaned inwardly. Collins was a ghost—they’d been hunting him for days with no leads.  

Meanwhile, watching the WNS broadcast, Vincent, Old and Young Mosby, Tran Buckle, and the Red Ochre Clan gaped in shock. They couldn’t believe Devil-dono had pulled it off so fast—Joanne Kochi and her entire team, wiped out.  

“Our clan can finally rest in peace,” Old Mosby said, his voice heavy with emotion. In his heart, he was more certain than ever: they had to cling to Devil-dono’s thigh (power) with everything they had!  

Chapter 209: Getting a “Fat Boy” for Muzan Kibutsuji* 

“This thing’s pretty damn interesting, huh?” 

In Old Vik’s clinic, Riku and Old Vik were huddled around a machine, eyeballing Riku’s new “toy.” Before leaving the lab, Riku had snagged a bunch of experimental samples, basically inheriting Joanne Kochi’s entire research legacy. 

“This is that Nightingale Project from the news, right?” Old Vik said, his face lit up with amazement. The tech was still a work in progress, but even he could see its potential. 

No wonder Joanne Kochi was so ruthless. If she’d pulled this off, calling it world-changing might be a stretch, but it’d definitely rocket her status in a place like the biotech corp, where your worth is measured by the products you churn out. 

“Yup, a big joint project between the biotech corp and Militech,” Riku confirmed with a nod. He’d hit the jackpot, no question. He was confident he could perfect this tech—it’d just take time. Lucky for him, time was one thing he had in spades. Slow and steady wins the race. 

“Got it,” Old Vik said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. If the Nightingale Project was the biotech corp’s big focus in Night City, then maybe Valentini, the branch head, wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know about Riku.  

A project like Nightingale was high-tech, sure, but compared to whatever created a monster like Riku? It was small-time. Plus, every time Riku caused a ruckus and left Night City, he came back stronger. That made it more likely he was tied to some secret biotech lab outside the city. 

Old Vik’s mind was stuck on the idea that Riku was a biotech corp creation. It was a hard stereotype to shake—after all, they were the top dogs in cutting-edge research. What other corp could churn out a freak like Riku? 

“Oh, by the way, Vik, I’m leaving you some Rc cells and suppressants,” Riku said, setting down a few small vials. “If you run into any problems you can’t fix, use these. Follow the method I’m sending you—it’ll cure just about anything. But go easy, yeah? Don’t let the corp dogs sniff it out. You know how it is.” 

He sent over the medical protocols he’d gotten from Kanou Minami. Rc cells were a game-changer for medical treatment—capable of healing most injuries or illnesses without needing a kagune to activate them. 

“Nice, I’ll take a look,” Old Vik said, grabbing the vials without hesitation. Their relationship was tight enough that no extra words were needed. 

Deep down, though, Vik was floored. Riku was getting more mysterious by the day. That live broadcast Vik saw on TV? Riku’s performance had shaken his worldview. Those scenes looked like straight-up movie special effects—tech he’d never seen or even heard of. The only reason he still pegged Riku as a biotech corp product was because they were the gold standard in research. If some alien faction popped up tomorrow, Vik would bet his left arm Riku was their creation. 

Riku, oblivious to Vik’s inner turmoil, left the clinic after dropping off the goods. 

Sure, he’d set up a smuggling route for heavy weapons from outside the city, but he wasn’t holding his breath that the station would have what he really wanted: a tactical nuke, like the one that leveled Arasaka Tower back in the day. He was itching to give Muzan Kibutsuji—a thousand-year-old creep—a taste of nuclear fireworks, Nihon-style. 

Problem was, nukes weren’t exactly floating around on the black market. Even if one was out there, Riku probably couldn’t afford it. To get his hands on one, he’d need to hit up the big players—Arasaka or Militech—and he had zero qualms about pulling a “zero-yen purchase” on those megacorps. 

The catch? Nukes were stored in ultra-secure, classified locations. Even within the government or corporate systems, only a handful of people would know where they were kept. 

“Still, I’ve got a lead on finding a nuke,” Riku said with a grin. 

His lead tied back to Arasaka—and the nuclear explosion from over fifty years ago. When Arasaka Tower got obliterated, Arasaka initially thought it was their own nuke that went off. They did have one stashed in the tower, a beast even more powerful than the Militech bomb that actually caused the blast.  

After some digging, they confirmed the explosion was Militech’s doing, which let them breathe a sigh of relief—they weren’t the ones who caused the catastrophe. But when they searched the ruins for their own nuke, it was gone. No trace of an explosion, meaning someone had hauled it off.  

That nuke was heavy as hell, so whoever took it was either jacked beyond belief or fully cybered up. Using radiation scanners, Arasaka traced it to a basement garage owned by a firefighter named Samantha Stevens. Instead of retrieving it, they put the nuke and Stevens under tight surveillance, ready to act if it moved. That bomb sat in her garage for fifteen years. 

It’s long gone now, moved decades ago with quite a bit of fanfare. But the people involved back then? They’re still around. The older ones might be in their seventies, the younger ones barely sixty. 

“Old Mo, you got a line on Taz Santiago?” Riku asked, calling up Old Mosby. As a veteran nomad, Mosby was old enough to have been around during those events. 

“Taz Santiago? Old Santiago’s kid?” Mosby sounded surprised. The name Taz Santiago didn’t come up much among nomads anymore. After Old Santiago got caught up in the Arasaka Tower nuke incident—tied to Johnny Silverhand’s crew—and died, young Taz left the Aldecaldo clan. 

“Maybe try Saul Bright,” Mosby suggested. “His family doesn’t run the Santiago line, but they’re still Aldecaldos. They might have a connection to Taz.” 

“Good call,” Riku said, agreeing. He hung up and dialed a younger Aldecaldo—Panam Palmer. They’d met once before, hit it off, and swapped contact info. Panam used an old-school phone, no cyberware, so this was an actual call. 

“Yo, Devil! What’s up? Calling me out of the blue?” Panam’s voice came through, cheerful as ever. 

“Panam, you got a way to reach Taz Santiago?” Riku cut to the chase. No need to beat around the bush with someone as straightforward as her. 

“Old Taz? What do you need him for? He’s in Night City,” she replied without missing a beat, no suspicion in her tone. 

“Got some questions for him. You could hook us up if that’s easier,” Riku said, figuring Panam as a middleman might avoid any misunderstandings. 

“Nah, I’ll give you his contact. Just say you’re my friend—he’ll give you some face, haha!” Panam laughed, missing Riku’s hint. She thought direct contact would be faster. 

“Alright, let’s see how much your name’s worth,” Riku said with a chuckle, jotting down Taz Santiago’s info. 

“Don’t worry, he won’t ghost you!” Panam teased, clearly confident. She and Taz were on good terms, at least enough to chat. 

After hanging up, Riku dialed Taz Santiago. A quick check showed Taz had been working as a journalist in Night City, now a respected media figure living a pretty cushy life. 

The call connected quickly. “Hello, who’s this?” Taz’s voice came through, not too weathered for a guy in his sixties. 

“Mr. Santiago, I’m a friend of Panam Palmer’s. Got some questions for you about something you were involved in,” Riku said politely. 

Taz paused, clearly thrown by the connection to Panam. “Panam’s friend? You an Aldecaldo?” 

“Nope, just a friend, not clan,” Riku clarified, keeping it honest. Taz might’ve left the Aldecaldos, but he seemed tight with the Bright family. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?” Taz asked, sipping coffee in his sleek apartment. In the background, his wife, Lilaya, strummed a guitar, familiar music filling the air. 

“You remember anything about that nuke you transported decades ago?” Riku went straight to the point. 

Taz froze mid-sip, the sound of coffee drinking stopping. “Who are you? How do you know about that?” His tone turned sharp, eyes narrowing. He glanced at Lilaya, still playing on the balcony, and stepped into another room, lowering his voice. Lilaya was part of that job too—it’s how they got tangled up in it. 

“Doesn’t matter who I am. I just want to know where you took it,” Riku pressed. He vaguely recalled it was sent somewhere notable. 

“No point. That nuke was disarmed ages ago. You’re not getting it now, kid. You’re thirty years too late,” Taz said, chuckling. They’d been chased all over back then, and now, decades later, someone was still asking? 

“Thirty years too late for what?” Lilaya called out, noticing Taz’s sneaky move to take the call in private. 

“Some kid looking for Arasaka’s nuke,” Taz replied, his expression odd. 

Lilaya burst out laughing. “Yeah, way too late. This guy wasn’t even born back then, was he?” 

But Riku’s next words wiped the smiles off their faces. “I’m not after that nuke. Fact is, what you transported wasn’t a nuke at all—it was Johnny Silverhand’s body.” 

The line went silent. Taz and Lilaya were stunned, their first instinct to call bullshit. Johnny Silverhand’s body? No way. 

“Arasaka Michiko personally received us to handle that nuke. How could it be Silverhand’s body?!” Lilaya snapped, looking to Taz for backup. 

“But… Samantha Stevens, Angel… they were huge Silverhand fans. Close ties, too. How else would they have his final track, Black Dog?” Taz said, doubt creeping in. He’d always had questions about that job. 

A nuke, sitting under Arasaka’s nose for fifteen years, and they never reclaimed it? Samantha Stevens was just a firefighter—no way she could hold off Arasaka. Letting her keep it never made sense. 

“Is that true?” Lilaya cut in, unable to hold back. Taz had already put the call on speaker. 

“Why don’t we go check it out?” Riku said with a grin. 

Lilaya’s involvement sealed the deal. She was a diehard Silverhand fan, a true rockerboy at heart. They’d gotten roped into the “nuke” job because she wanted to complete Silverhand’s last work, Black Dog. 

“Taz, he’s right. We need to see for ourselves,” Lilaya said, eyes blazing with excitement. She looked younger than Rogue, no question—definitely young enough to still stir up some trouble. 

Chapter 210: Just a Fantasy Before Death 

Of course, while he’s considered a junior, Tasu Santiago isn’t Rogu’s son—there’s no blood relation between them. Tasu Santiago’s mother was someone Old Santiago met after returning to Adekado. By then, Old Santiago wasn’t constantly hanging around Rogu and Jonī Silverhand anymore. He went back to his clan, met Tasu’s mother, got married, had a kid, and eventually took over the entire clan. 

That’s also why Old Santiago didn’t take part in the 2023 attack. He was no longer a lone wolf but the boss of a wanderer kingdom, with too many responsibilities to consider. 

Sadly, even though Old Santiago didn’t go, a squad of “Wolfpack”—the collective name for Adekado’s warriors—did participate. Because of that, he couldn’t escape being implicated. It’s ironic, really. Some of the people who were directly involved lived long lives, but Old Santiago, who stayed out of it, got caught up and died first. 

“Rirāya,” Tasu Santiago said, furrowing his brow. He wasn’t surprised by his wife’s reaction to the news, but he was worried. What was this mysterious guy who suddenly showed up after? 

That time, they got dragged into a major event out of nowhere, nearly costing their entire team their lives. They were young back then, but now they were getting on in years. 

“Thirty minutes from now, meet me at Afterlife,” Riku said, leaving his final words before hanging up abruptly. He had no doubt they’d show up. Just listen to “Black Dog,” the song Jonī Silverhand released over a decade after his death, and you’d know these fans were so devoted they’d nearly died for their love. 

--- 

Thirty minutes later, Riku met the couple at Afterlife. The man looked refined—vest, white shirt, dress pants, a shoulder bag slung across his back. He didn’t look like a wanderer at all, and truth be told, Tasu Santiago hadn’t wandered for long. When your dad’s the boss of an entire wanderer kingdom, it’s hard to leave your own mark. 

So, after Old Santiago’s death, Tasu Santiago came to Night City and became a journalist. He started out legit, but workplace discrimination due to his wanderer roots pushed him to go independent. Now he’s a freelance media guy, posting news and info to independent data pools. 

Rirāya, on the other hand, was a complete contrast to Tasu’s style. The former rock kid was dressed vibrantly, with long flowing hair and a red-and-black electronic keyboard slung over her back, emblazoned with the words “Can’t Deny Me.” She didn’t look her age at all—you’d believe she was in her thirties. 

“You’re Devil?” the couple asked as they sat at the designated spot, eyeing Riku with some surprise. This Devil guy was quite the looker, making a great first impression. 

Before coming, Tasu Santiago had asked Panan Palmer for some info on this Devil guy, but he didn’t expect him to be so young. 

“That’s me. What’re you two drinking?” Riku nodded with a smile, calling over the bartender, Kurea, to take their order after they replied. 

“Afterlife, huh? Been a while since I’ve been here,” Tasu Santiago said, glancing around. The bar, open for decades, was still thriving. Rogu’s special touch had made Afterlife a cultural symbol—not just a place to drink. 

“You never come here much anyway,” Rirāya teased. Because of some old history between Rogu and Old Santiago, Tasu Santiago did feel reluctant to visit. For a while, there was even a rumor that he was Rogu and Old Santiago’s kid, which embarrassed him. Rogu herself didn’t care, treating Tasu like the descendant of a close friend. 

“So, where was the stuff sent?” Riku asked with a smile, sipping his coffee. Drinking coffee in a bar caught Tasu and Rirāya off guard, but they didn’t comment, assuming it was just a quirk. 

“In New Mexico, Los Alamos, a place called Alamos Lab. Ever heard of it?” Rirāya blurted out before Tasu could answer, clearly eager and full of questions. 

“Los Alamos National Laboratory? That’s a big name,” Riku said, instantly recalling the place. The “Manhattan Project,” Oppenheimer, Edward Teller—the birthplace of the world’s first atomic and hydrogen bombs. He hadn’t expected to hear that name in this world, at this time. 

“Yeah, Los Alamos Lab was a famous nuclear facility even before the Great Collapse. If there’s any place that could make a nuke safe, it’s there,” Tasu Santiago added. Back then, New Mexico was still a Free State, backed by Arasaka’s influence. The lab was under Arasaka’s control, too. If it had been Militech’s territory, Arasaka Michiko definitely wouldn’t have helped them. 

“But New Mexico’s been reclaimed now,” Riku said, narrowing his eyes. That happened just a few years ago. Despite Arasaka’s interference, New America’s “Unification War” didn’t fully succeed, but those rebellious western Free States, including New Mexico, were at least nominally brought back under control. 

“Yeah, nominally reclaimed. Militech’s influence has seeped in, but Arasaka still holds sway there. The Free States retain a lot of autonomy, though, so we’re not sure who’s controlling Los Alamos Lab now,” Tasu Santiago said with a nod. Going there this time would be even riskier than before, especially since the destination might not even be open to them. 

“Last time, we were let right in,” Rirāya said, realizing the gravity of the situation. Clearly, getting in to investigate wasn’t going to be as simple as talking their way through. 

“That’s why I said there’s no point in going. It’s been over thirty years. Even if that nuke really contained Jonī Silverhand, by now…” Tasu Santiago trailed off as Rirāya glared at him, clearly unhappy. 

“This is your deal. I’m going either way,” Riku said, rolling his eyes. These fifty- or sixty-year-old lovebirds could stop showing off. His goal was already met—he just needed the location. Whether Tasu Santiago and Rirāya went didn’t matter to him. 

“Of course we’re going! Let’s call up Kepurā, Niuma, Damian, and Zara for a road trip reunion after thirty years!” Rirāya said, clutching her electronic keyboard, her face lit up with excitement. She seemed thrilled at the prospect of this adventure to find Jonī Silverhand’s body. 

Tasu Santiago rubbed his forehead. This wasn’t something you could just talk your way into. Risking it all for some vague tip was reckless—something only a diehard fan would do. Unfortunately, his wife was exactly that kind of fan. 

“Tasu? Rirāya? You’re here and didn’t tell me?” A woman approached with a drink in hand, her tone laced with surprise and curiosity. 

“Devil? How’d you three end up together?” Rogu asked, sipping her drink, clearly puzzled. She knew Devil, of course. Most cyberpunks might not, but she was well aware of the big moves V, Jack Welles, and their Haywood crew had made. They weren’t your average cyberpunks. 

“Just asking them a few things,” Riku said, nodding to Rogu as he sipped his coffee. Involving Rogu had its pros and cons. On one hand, Rogu was the “King of Fixers,” but she was backed by Arasaka Michiko. Thirty years ago, Los Alamos Lab was likely under Arasaka Michiko’s control, and it might still be. Even if it wasn’t, the contents could’ve been moved by her people. Getting Rogu involved could be a safety net. On the other hand, as someone planning to go after a nuke, being on the radar of the “owner” wasn’t ideal. 

“Rogu, we’re talking business,” Tasu Santiago said, awkwardly scratching his fingers. He wasn’t keen on getting tangled up with her. 

“Rogu, we’re going to find Jonī Silverhand’s body!” Rirāya, on the other hand, was completely open, clearly familiar with Rogu, and spilled their plans without hesitation. 

“What?” Rogu’s expression froze, clearly caught off guard. The mention stirred up old memories. “That guy’s body… it was reduced to ashes in that nuclear blast. Where are you even planning to look?” 

(Chapter End)