"Watch your step, I'll go first."
Mower reached out to stop Roqi and hacked into an anti-personnel mine hidden between two stacked crates.
That was the fourth mine she'd disarmed.
The building wasn't spacious. Beyond the narrow reception area lay a cluttered space doubling as both warehouse and studio, filled with scattered equipment and props.
Steel scaffolding, empty tripods, broken fill lights—everything was piled in disarray. Even a novice could tell this had once been a recording set.
Now? It was ruled by dust.
Who knew where Max had gotten all this stuff—infrared anti-personnel mines, automated smart gun turrets.
If it hadn't been Roqi and Mower walking in, anyone without professional bomb disposal experience would have suffered. Especially clumsy gang members—the first few would've been blown to bits.
"Honestly, I kind of like the guy's thinking," Roqi chuckled.
When facing enemies with superior numbers and firepower, traps and explosives are your best friend.
"Here. Catch."
Mower, leading the way, pulled something from the wall and tossed it back to Roqi.
He caught it in both hands and looked down. Sure enough—one of Max's mines.
"It's pretty heavy," Roqi said, weighing it. He wasn't even mad about the risk.
A hacked mine was like a grenade with the pin still in. Even bullets wouldn't set it off.
"With this payload..." Roqi gestured to his waist. "You could split someone clean in two. Brutal."
But Max wasn't a trained operative. Despite his careful setup, Mower dismantled each trap with ease. They didn't slow them down at all.
They climbed the stairs. At the corner was a single door—the building's main office.
No doubt Max was inside.
Mower's bio-scanner had already picked him up.
"Open up, meter check."
Roqi joked, quoting an ancient meme from over fifty years ago. He reached for the handle.
"Freeze! Don't move!"
As expected, the moment the door opened, a shout stopped Roqi in his tracks.
"Who the hell are you!? Speak or I shoot!"
The guy's voice was full of intensity.
What cracked Roqi up wasn't the threat itself, but the way Max held the gun—pointed at himself instead of them.
It reminded him of some rich girl in a drama holding scissors to her throat. "Touch me and I swear I'll die right here!"
"Relax, Regina sent us," Roqi said, flashing a helpless smile at the man in shades. "You're Max, right? Someone wants you dead. We came to help."
The name "Regina" made Max falter. The suicidal tension vanished, replaced by a mix of emotions.
"Hah... Regina? Tch..."
Clearly, he'd been pushed to the brink. Now that the pressure eased, he slumped down, exhausted.
He lowered the gun and collapsed into the chair by the desk, elbows on his knees. "Tell her to go to hell."
"Alright, alright. Take it easy," Roqi replied, tossing the mine onto the desk. "We're not enemies. Let's talk."
"Why the fake suicide threat?"
"Thought you were corpo assassins."
"Would've died either way," Roqi shrugged.
"That's for me to decide!" Max shouted, anger flaring. "Those bastards can control everything else, but not me. I choose when I die. On my own damn terms!"
"Respect," Roqi nodded. "Guts like that are rare in Night City."
"You sure your gun was loaded? Not afraid it'd misfire?"
He noticed Max's fingers trembling—the guy hadn't calmed down yet.
Bang!
Max fired a shot into the ceiling.
Roqi just grinned.
This guy had guts.
Real courage is feeling fear and moving anyway.
Now sure Roqi and Mower weren't assassins, Max calmed down further.
"Tell Regina I haven't broken down. Unlike her."
Broken down?
Roqi raised an eyebrow.
So something had happened to Regina that pushed her to change careers.
But Roqi didn't ask. That wasn't his business.
His job was to bring this stubborn bastard back.
"We heard your broadcast."
"Yeah, it kicked in the moment you showed up. Got cut off sooner than I expected, but hey, the truth got out."
Using the building's equipment, Max had aired an exposé—only for it to be cut by the corp network as soon as it began.
"Someone wants you dead. You already knew that."
"Uh-huh."
"Look, I don't care if you live or die. But Regina wants to help."
"Help me? She needs help," Max scoffed. "She was the best damn journalist in the city. My mentor. Now? No conscience left."
He looked away, lost in memory.
Then turned back with fierce conviction.
"But no one's buying me off. Not ever."
"Okay, okay. Chill. Not trying to bribe you," Roqi replied like he was calming a toddler. "Wait... she was your mentor?"
Regina had called Max a "good friend," but now he claimed she was his mentor?
There was clearly more to their history.
"She wasn't just my mentor. She was the best war correspondent Night City had."
"And then she became a fixer?"
"Yeah. Conscience sold to the highest bidder."
Max couldn't let it go.
"Honestly, she's one of the most principled fixers I know," Mower said. "There's more than one way to fight the corps. You won't talk to her, so how would you know she's changed?"
"You with Militech?" Max asked, eyeing her cyberware. "Then you don't know what real conscience means."
"She was. Now she fights the corps," Roqi said.
"Not all resistance is suicidal," he added. "You don't get it? Judge by heart, not method."
Max was caught in a trap—probably from being hunted so long.
"One step at a time. If you die now, that's one less voice. Live longer, do more."
"Hah..."
Max let out a long sigh. He stared at the sealed window, lost in thought.
"Fine. You make a good point."
He stood, hands on the desk, recalling old memories.
"It wasn't always like this... Journalists could speak the truth. We exposed all their filth."
"Now? Even if you prove Holt's on Arasaka's payroll, nobody cares. Fuck!"
He slammed the desk.
Wilton Holt—Deputy Mayor of Night City. Ambitious. Ruthless.
Roqi had seen him with the old mayor, negotiating with Arasaka agents in a Sapphire Tower suite.
Political power games were above Roqi's pay grade. But Max? He poked every hornet's nest in the city.
No wonder Regina was worried.
"Why do this? Hoping the truth makes people think?"
"Exactly. Maybe this tiny grain of sand becomes a pearl. Who knows? But it's worth it."
Max was a realist-driven idealist. He knew the stakes and still chose the fight.
"Fair enough," Roqi nodded. "But don't die before the mission begins."
"Sacrifice is part of the job," Max said. "If it's for the truth, I welcome it."
"Sure you do," Roqi chuckled. "So how many enemies did you make? Regina says the whole city wants your head."
"Good. The louder the backlash, the bigger the impact."
This guy measured danger like it was a badge of honor.
"Illegal Biotech experiments, Night Corp corruption, Arasaka's hit squads, and the Maelstrom riot cover-up. I got receipts on all of it."
He rattled it off like reading a menu.
"Damn. You really did hit every nerve. Regina picked up a ticking time bomb."
Roqi clapped his hands. "Alright, let's go. Staying here won't help. Corpo agents are probably en route."
"Running won't change anything. I don't need your help."
Still stubborn.
"What, still mad at Regina? Trying to prove something?"
"Tch. You don't know shit."
"You're right. I don't know what history you two have. But if you want to understand who she is now and what she's fighting for, go see her."
"Mmh."
Max seemed to consider it.
"She won't hurt you. If she wanted you dead, she'd have let the corps handle it. This matters to her."
Both of them had unresolved issues.
Roqi's job? Get them to face it.
"I'll go. That's all."
"Perfect. That's all we needed."
Roqi finally smiled. Convincing this guy was a war of attrition.
"Trust me. Regina's not a bad person. She just fights her battles in her own way."
"Alright. Let me download a few things first."
Max moved to his terminal, loading files into a shard.
Data he could use to keep fighting the corps.
Roqi folded his arms, shared a look with Mower.
Talking someone down was more exhausting than any firefight.
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