When Roqi, Mower, and Max stepped out of the old WNS broadcast tower, the private car Regina had sent was already waiting outside.
"A private driver? What's next, champagne? Black-market synthetic cigars?" Max scoffed, unimpressed by Regina's gesture.
"No time. We need to move," the driver urged.
Roqi and Max exchanged a glance and got into the back seat. Mower took the front passenger seat.
"Drive."
Roqi patted the seat, signaling that they were ready to go.
The driver, following Regina's instructions, said nothing more. His job was simple: protect them and drive fast.
The car exited through an alley and merged back onto the main road.
They left behind the towering monoliths of Arasaka Waterfront and returned to the more familiar Northern Industrial District.
Mower checked the surroundings through the rearview mirror. No sign of corporate agents. She nodded—clear.
Only then did Roqi let his body fully relax into the seat, exhaling as he glanced at Max, whose face remained grim behind his sunglasses.
Max wasn't some paranoid zealot who saw enemies in every shadow. He just wore that expression out of habit. Digging up corporate scandals while risking your life wasn't exactly a stress-free gig.
"Honestly, I'm starting to regret this," Max muttered.
"I get it," Roqi replied lightly. "Your brow looks like it's never known peace."
"No, you don't get it," Max said flatly. "You don't know the past."
"But it's written all over your face." Roqi raised a hand. "Doubt. Pressure. Fear. And that stubborn fire you call 'resolve.'"
Anyone could see the man was wrestling with himself—more than when they'd first met.
"Alright, let's change the subject."
Seeing Max still weighed down, Roqi shifted gears.
"How about what you've done to piss everyone off? What exactly happened?"
Max slowly shook his head. "We're not close enough for that."
"Fair," Roqi chuckled. "I thought working with Regina might've earned me a little trust."
"And what do you think?"
Roqi smiled. "Equivalent exchange?"
"You tell me what Regina's been up to—who she really is now—and I'll tell you what you want to know."
He lowered his voice.
"Intel on those corporate bastards."
"Sounds fair," Roqi said with an amused grin. "So mentioning Regina wasn't useless after all."
Max gave no response. That silence was his version of agreement.
He turned to look out the window. The city raced by, reflections hiding whatever might've shown in his eyes.
"Then I'll tell you what I know about Regina."
Roqi didn't wait for a response. He just started talking.
"I arrived in Night City a little over six months ago. Regina was already a fixer."
"We've worked together quite a bit—we're friends, in a way," he recalled. "She's different from the rest."
"Sure, every fixer's different. But she's really different—kidnapping, theft, assassination... she'll take those jobs, but only when it's one bastard targeting another. Never the really dirty gigs."
One by one, Roqi listed Regina's 'good deeds.'
"There was this cop, dug too deep into something she shouldn't have. Her own colleagues wanted her dead. Regina just asked V to convince her to drop the case and get out of the city."
"Or the folks wanting revenge but short on eddies—Regina would sometimes chip in herself."
Roqi patted his chest. "Me? I'm a good guy. Low pay's fine, as long as I can bend the rules to do some good."
There were plenty more examples.
Helping criminals take out each other. Regularly sharing NCPD bounty contracts. Sometimes aiding good people for free—helping them vanish or escape.
Strip away the fixer title, and Regina had done plenty.
Technically, she wasn't a 'good person.'
But in Night City? Compared to the filth? She was a goddamn angel.
Roqi wrapped up in a few minutes. Max didn't speak, but that silence was telling.
"Tch."
Max let out a sharp breath between his teeth.
"Makes no difference. They're all the same."
That's what he said. But Roqi could see through it.
Max was stubborn. Really stubborn. But it was all bark.
"Well? I shared. Your turn."
Roqi leaned in, watching him.
"What do you want to know?" Max asked after a pause.
Before Roqi could answer, Mower finally spoke.
"We're here."
They both looked up. The derelict factories were gone—replaced by the towering maze of Watson.
Regina's base sat in the eastern edge of Kabuki, right beside the infamous braindance club—Lizzie's Bar.
A glowing neon sign stretched across the entrance: [YAIBA]
Roqi's first reaction was to read it as 'Salt.' Then he remembered—it meant 'blade' in Japanese.
The building was filthy and worn, much like the street it faced. A ten to fifteen-story relic of decades past. Nothing glamorous.
They were bottom-tier structures.
In Night City's vertical hierarchy, this was the ground floor.
Above them loomed towers that blocked out the sun—homes of the elite.
But here? It was low-profile. And that had its perks.
They exited the car and slipped down a side alley, only to be stopped by a heavy iron gate.
Roqi fumbled for a moment before finding a small button on the wall.
They took an elevator to the 13th floor.
Not a lucky number for Christians—but none of them were religious.
"Half-abandoned building. Hidden base. In some ways, you and Regina are alike," Roqi mused.
"Used to be, truth-tellers didn't have to hide," Max muttered. "First time here?"
"First time at the base. Not the first time meeting her."
They'd worked together often. Roqi trusted her. They clicked. Reliable partners.
But this was his first time seeing her HQ.
He nudged aside some trash with his foot. The elevator was old, grimy, and drafty—perfectly matching the building.
The doors slid open.
Roqi's hair stood on end.
Two Militech Aegis-X2 turrets aimed straight at them from less than five meters away.
One trigger pull, and he'd be Swiss cheese.
"Don't worry. You're cleared. Come in."
Regina's voice.
The turrets dropped into standby.
"Jesus. That was one hell of a welcome," Roqi muttered, clutching his chest.
Mower strode past, unfazed. You could tell she was used to this kind of heat.
She even patted a turret. "Aegis-X2. Latest model. Probably top-tier fire control, too."
"Smart eyes," Regina's voice said. "Come in—I'm by the window."
Roqi and Max glanced at each other and headed deeper inside.
Calling it a base was generous. It was messy, bare, and totally devoid of any fixer-style flair.
Even Padre's humble bar had character.
First impressions mattered. Vibe mattered.
What Roqi saw were piles of electronics, intel files, and equipment.
In the southeast corner of the massive suite, Regina stood near a huge glass wall, arms folded, staring out at the city.
A comms guy and a techie working on a fuse box were the only others there—her crew. No outsiders.
Quiet. Empty. Typical Regina.
"Glad you brought him in alive. Thanks."
Regina gave Roqi a faint smile as Max begrudgingly entered.
Roqi waved it off.
You don't talk pay first when you're tight with a fixer. That's amateur hour.
Roqi slouched into a seat, cracked open a drink, and sipped. Pro move.
Regina and Max immediately started circling each other—like an old spy movie. Riddles, jabs, and cryptic lines.
Roqi tuned them out. He watched the view.
North Kabuki. Facing Westbrook's Japantown.
A massive bridge stretched out like a royal causeway, leading to towering skyscrapers.
Neon ads and glittering windows turned the city into a kaleidoscope of light pollution.
Tilt your head just a bit—look down.
A cluster of shadowy, dusty slums.
Ah, the real Night City.
Ramshackle huts hidden under pipes and vents. Like rot spreading under a golden surface.
Mower had seen Roqi do this before.
She didn't understand why he stared at Night City like it was new every day.
But she saw the light in his eyes.
Not arrogance. Not sorrow. Not fake depth.
Curiosity.
Like someone not from this world, trying hard to understand it.
Because in his world, back in WWII, there was no Saburo Arasaka flying for Japan. No Soviet Union that broke America.
Everything here was new.
"Whatever the case, stay put for now. Wait for things to cool off," Regina told Max.
"Fine. Let's hope you're as good as he says," Max grumbled, glancing at Roqi.
Why drag me into it? Roqi rolled his eyes and took another sip, handing the half-empty bottle to Mower.
"Thanks, Lucky," Regina nodded. "Got another job. Big one. Long-term. You'll like it—officer."
"What kind of job?"
Roqi gave a tired smile. Fixers were all-seeing, all-hearing beasts. He'd barely joined MaxTac, and the whole city already knew.
"The usual. Just like journalism."
Regina smirked. "Information's a weapon. Or merchandise. Someone pays, we collect."
"Ever heard of the Asuka-ha?"
Asuka-ha?
Roqi blinked.
He'd only ever heard of taro pie.
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