Chapter 53

"It's best to listen to your friend? No! Everyone knows your tricks! You hate us to death, don't you? I'm right, aren't I?"

The man continued to spew his cynical words, glaring with bulging eyes, his face twisted, openly expressing his thoughts.

"Hate you?" The cop smirked, "Kid, who the hell cares about two piles of shit?"

"Those two officers have good temperaments, otherwise, he would've had at least a few bones broken."

Muehler slurped her noodles, which were covered in a nice sauce.

"True, Night City... still has a few decent cops."

Rogue watched as the officer finished recording and calmly returned to the car, closing the door.

"Working hard, only to realize the justice they vowed to protect isn't worth a damn."

"Is that so?"

He looked at Muehler, whose lips were smeared with sauce. She had already finished a large bowl of noodles at lightning speed and was now wiping her mouth with a napkin, looking somewhat embarrassed.

Rogue glanced at his own bowl, still half-full.

"Lack of funds, equipment, and personnel, NCPD isn't as wealthy as the corporations, yet they have to support the counter-terrorism unit."

"Controlled by corporations, internal corruption, wavering convictions; that's right, justice is barely alive."

Muehler recounted the current situation she knew.

Despite this, some officers still harbored ideals, wholeheartedly protecting ordinary citizens, keeping this urban jungle from falling into complete chaos.

For them, the badge still held meaning in this city, and their guns were tools for protecting citizens and serving the city. Encountering such zealous devotees, most gang members would kneel down, hands over their heads. Anyone who refused to cooperate would almost certainly be shot.

So when people encountered problems, they still ultimately chose to call this impure, wavering law enforcement agency.

Because the bullets fired from their guns still carried the fading warmth of the last vestiges of justice.

"But at least there's one piece of good news—the counter-terrorism unit isn't entirely made up of freakishly strong individuals."

Rogue stuffed the remaining food into his mouth in one go, pinched the soda can, and burped with his hand over his mouth.

He had eaten too fast.

"?"

Muehler cast an inquisitive gaze at him.

"At the Azure Tower that night, the counter-terrorism unit came looking for me, and I fought with a crazy woman."

Rogue recounted the events of that night, still feeling a bit fuzzy about it.

"You remember those military tech exoskeletons equipped with thermal cannons and no armor?"

She nodded, explaining it was an older model but widely used.

"That thing's power cell exploded, causing her only minor injuries. I lost after fighting with her using my katana and her mantis blades for quite a while."

"Were you hurt?"

Muehler frowned.

"Uh, a minor injury. She even threw me some medicine."

Rogue shook his head, not understanding the meaning behind the counter-terrorism unit member's actions.

"You think it's like some kind of fated duel. Someone's unbeatable, and I'm the one who can fight her to a... never mind, no more boasting."

Halfway through, even Rogue felt embarrassed and started laughing.

"It's indeed possible; you never know what those counter-terrorism unit lunatics think about every day." Muehler didn't deny this speculation, "I heard they're all recruited cyberpsychos, but I don't think it's all of them, just a significant portion."

As an exceptionally elite modified soldier, Moer could easily demolish an entire street, smashing her enemies' heads into walls. But in Night City, a brutal and primitive "battlefield," people as formidable as her were not that rare.

For example, the inexplicably powerful young man next to her.

And that even more outrageous female psychopath from the Terror Squad.

It made sense that she was just a lieutenant in the special forces, not a colonel.

At some point, the desire to become stronger quietly took root and sprouted in her heart.

Moer also felt guilty about leaving without permission that night.

She thought it was a good time - no one was paying attention to her, it was a dark and windy night perfect for killing, and the whole city's attention was drawn to the events at Arasaka Tower, allowing everyone to rest after the mission.

But what if something had happened to Roche then...

She hadn't thought about whether she could handle an enemy that even Roche couldn't defeat; she just felt scared in retrospect.

"But there's a saying - what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger," Roche said with an optimistic smile, not noticing that Moer's soda can had been crushed in her hand.

"Let's go, let's go to the Afterlife and have a couple of drinks and get to business."

"No, let's sit for a while longer."

Moer decisively hooked his arm, her face hidden in her black hair, with only a hint of pink on her cheeks visible.

"Alright, let's sit for a while longer."

Roche was taken aback, then smiled and watched the evening news on WNS with the girl.

Although the screen was mostly filled with various exaggerated and noisy advertisements, and the honking of car horns wasn't a great accompaniment.

But the taste of the wind was sweet; it was lovely.

South of Little China Town by the sea, behind the closely-packed high-rises, lies the hidden and unique Afterlife nightclub.

It appears no different from other places where people can drink and enjoy themselves.

But this is not a place where ordinary people can enter.

Fifty years ago, the most powerful mercenaries and middlemen in Night City gathered at the Atlantis Club.

Fifty years later, it is here.

Many people from all walks of life gather here, but not many have the privilege to enter.

"To be honest, I've never been to the Afterlife nightclub before."

Roche and Moer walked down the stairs, past the beggars huddled in the corner, and headed towards the entrance.

This place is much more spacious and realistic than it appears in the game.

Back when Dexter and T-Bug were waiting in the booth for V and the others to discuss the Arasaka Tower mission and prepare to leave, Roche was busy bringing Moer over from Old Vic.

So neither of them had ever set foot in this so-called "mercenary sanctuary."

In such a place, with ears pricked up, you could easily pick up more information than in a place like Clouds.

"What now? Should we call for backup? Smash some heads and drag the bodies in?" In a corner, two people wearing NCPD bulletproof vests and uniforms were chatting.

"I've told you, man. The Afterlife is a place where reputation matters, and those with a strong reputation call the shots. Cops mean nothing here," said another officer. "Now they won't let us in, it's a tough nut to crack, let's just drop it."

"Funny, really damn funny," the cop laughed sarcastically. "Does Rogue think she can cover the sky with one hand?"

"Hey, buddy - keep it down! Be careful she doesn't hear you and shoot your balls off, don't drag me down with you."

Not far from them, a big man with a cold face, his burly arms crossed in front of him, blocked the entrance.

The Afterlife has no legal constraints, only the rules of the underworld.

Anyone can come, but not everyone can enter.

You can say anything, but be careful not to provoke someone you can't afford to.

So even cops coming to this place to handle cases can stand boldly outside the door of this illegal core area.

A very peculiar phenomenon - it seemed like a diverse mix of forces from various places, yet a delicate balance had been formed here.

This wasn't a battlefield, but the central platform of the underground world.

"Stop."

Laughing and talking, Roche was walking forward when he was stopped by the bulky mercenary.

"You can't go in."

"Tsk..."

Quiet snickers came from the nearby street thugs - another self-important guy.

What did he think the Afterlife was? Trying to gain a sense of existence in front of his girl?

"I'm looking for Rogue, is she here?"

Roche explained his purpose.

"Rogue? Haha... Does this kid think this place is an amusement park?"

More people laughed.

It seemed like they were witnessing a hilarious scene, laughing themselves half to death.

But Roche's face was only filled with baffled helplessness.

"Weird... V and Jackie can go in, or do I need some kind of qualification proof?"

He muttered unhappily, shrugging at Moer.

This place was really interesting.

Thinking back to when he played the game, it seemed V and Jackie only got in by mentioning Dexter's name.

"Ah! I get it," Roche suddenly realized and said to the bouncer guarding the entrance, "Dexter, I know him."

"Dexter? He's been dead for days now, don't you know?"

A nearby man, dressed in a flashy manner, couldn't help but remind Roche.

How could such an ignorant kid manage to get involved with a fat gangster like Dexter?