"Find out! I want a full investigation! I want to know exactly who the hell was funding that damn civilian—and once we do, I want them taken care of!"
While NCPD officers stood under the public's gaze like heroes, Mayor Lucius Raines had already been escorted backstage under tight security—and he was seething with rage.
Moments after arriving behind the scenes, Peter Horsva's file had landed in his hands. Clearly, nearly dying at the hands of a cyberpsycho who had obviously been backed by someone with serious money was a scenario Raines could not tolerate.
This incident would undoubtedly spiral once the media caught hold of it. It would spread across Night City like wildfire, and once it did, his political enemies would weaponize it without hesitation.
They'd say he wasn't loved by the people. That he pushed a man to the edge until he turned into a cyberpsycho. That even in madness, the man still wanted to take the mayor down with him. Raines could already imagine dozens of such smears—and knew how damaging they could be.
If this had happened to one of his opponents, Raines would've been delighted. He'd have turned it into a PR nightmare for them, crushed their numbers, and surged ahead in the polls. But being on the receiving end of that same playbook? Not so pleasant.
He had just recently gained several approval points after pushing Pacifica out of Night City's jurisdiction. The move had conveniently dropped the reported crime rate, and Raines had been planning to build on that—cutting off law enforcement to the Badlands, waiting for stats to improve again, and then announcing a major citywide crime reduction to boost his popularity.
But this? This ruined everything.
Worse, if anyone tied this attack to his Pacifica policy, he'd be forced to drop it altogether.
Still fuming, Raines saw a heavyset man—almost as large as himself but slightly more fit—hurry into the room.
Deputy Mayor Wilton Holt.
The moment Raines saw him, his fury found a target. He narrowed his eyes beneath his glasses, his tone quiet but deadly:
"Holt."
That tone made Holt shudder instinctively.
They had worked together for years, and Holt knew Raines' temperament like the back of his hand.
And when Lucius spoke like that, it meant serious trouble.
"Lucius—"
Unlike Raines, who had used his surname, Holt tried to calm the tension by using his first name—hoping to defuse the situation with a bit of familiarity.
"You'll be taking the fall for this."
Raines' icy words immediately shut down Holt's efforts.
He stared him down. "The official story is this: the attack was aimed at you. The cyberpsycho was coming after you. I was just an unfortunate bystander, caught in the crossfire. Got it?"
Holt's mouth twitched slightly. After a pause, he nodded.
"I understand. For the sake of your campaign, none of this can be traced back to you."
"You'll have to carry the weight for a while—but I trust you know how to handle that."
Having delivered the stick, Raines now offered the carrot. Seeing Holt's cooperation, his tone softened.
"Don't worry, Wilton. We've been partners a long time. To the public, we're a unified front. Once I'm re-elected, I won't forget this. The deputy mayor's seat is still yours. And when I finish my final term... well, who better to hand the job to than a loyal partner?"
"Loyal partner," huh?
Holt kept his expression neutral, but inside, he was laughing coldly.
If he'd been a second slower with his reply earlier, Raines would've torn him to shreds. He would've been forced to take the fall whether he agreed or not.
Deputy mayor? The title was a joke. "Second-in-command," sure—but in reality, every major decision had to go through Raines. Holt's real job was managing the mayor's social calendar, dinners, and speeches. Whether he was a political figure or a glorified butler was still up for debate.
"Won't forget you," huh? Just weeks ago, when Holt had tried to push a minor initiative, Raines had shut him down with a cold, "I'm the mayor. You're not."
You'll regret this, Lucius, Holt thought to himself, just as he had back then.
Outwardly, Holt remained compliant—and Raines, satisfied, continued.
"Well, today's press conference is clearly done for. Time to rethink our strategy."
"What do you want to do, Lucius?"
"Drive me to that place. I need to clear my head."
For Raines, introspection came most naturally in indulgent moments. Over time, he had turned that into a ritual.
"The Red Queen's Race Club. Got it."
Holt nodded, and a cold gleam flashed in his eyes.
Lucius… You haven't changed a bit. Just as I expected.
After today, there will be no more Lucius Raines.
The mayor's motorcade began its departure, escorting his personal vehicle through the busy city. But at a fork in the road, one of the more ordinary-looking escort cars silently detached and turned down a different route.
"Drop me off and take the rest of the day off, Wilton. I'll call when I'm ready."
"Sure."
As Raines and Holt traveled together toward The Red Queen's Race Club in their unmarked vehicle, another car quietly slipped in behind them—a Tianqiong Hera, sleek and unremarkable in the flood of Night City traffic.
Inside that trailing car were four loud, irreverent figures.
"Damn, Karl! Not gonna lie, once you took off that helmet, you really looked like a legit cop—young, clean-cut. Kinda heroic."
"You're just now noticing, Oliver? Andy said there's a set for everyone. They're all in the trunk. We'll try them on later."
The four mercs were giddy over their freshly acquired NCPD uniforms—completely ignoring the mission ahead.
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