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🕑 Added 2025-06-30 16:18:49 +0000 UTCChapter 136: Riku's Experiment "Mr. Riku, Santo Domingo will never forget this kindness."
After Riku had healed all the severely ill children, the old captain, Muammar Reyes, held a deep, heartfelt respect for him. This wasn’t just anything—it was 150 living, breathing lives, the future of Santo Domingo.
"Whether Santo Domingo forgets or not isn’t up to you, old captain. People’s hearts are fickle, especially when it’s just a bunch of kids."
Riku shook his head with a smile, not buying into such grand promises. Elevating it to the level of all of Santo Domingo was a bit much. With a large enough group, you’re bound to get some bakemono—troublemakers and opportunists.
"Is that why you kept the kids in the dark about where they were treated? You’re worried they’d spill the beans?"
The old captain paused, noting how secretive Riku had been. The kids had no idea where they’d been cured or who had treated them.
"Exactly. I don’t care if Santo Domingo remembers me or not. As long as you do, old captain. Compared to empty words of gratitude from others, I trust your sense of giri—your honor—more."
As Riku spoke, he extended a hand. The old captain, with a serious expression, clasped it firmly.
"I, Muammar Reyes, can’t speak for all of Santo Domingo, but I’ve got some pull. From now on, Mr. Riku, whatever you need, I won’t hesitate to help."
The old captain made his promise with a grave tone. Riku had chosen to trust him, and he would repay that trust.
"With those words, I’m at ease. I’ll figure out a way to get more of the medicine, so we can help even more kids."
Riku nodded, satisfied. The old captain’s sense of honor was reliable—a rare seiryu (clear stream) in the murky waters of Night City.
"Can we help with anything?"
The old captain asked immediately. Riku had already explained that after the surgery, a special medicine was required. Without it, those who underwent the procedure would fall into a deep coma.
Though the old captain didn’t fully understand the details, he knew one thing: that state was dangerous, and the surgery couldn’t happen without the medicine.
"You can’t get involved. You won’t even find a whisper of this stuff on the market. It’s not something you can touch."
Riku shook his head, emphasizing the importance of the Rc saibō yokuseizai (Rc cell suppressant). The harder the surgery and the rarer the medicine, the greater the favor owed. This tactic worked well on the old captain.
"..."
The old captain fell silent. He didn’t entirely believe Riku. As one of the biggest brokers in Santo Domingo and a notable figure in Night City, he was confident in his ability to get anything Riku could. Years in Night City had built that confidence.
Even the rarest medicines could be obtained with enough skill, even experimental ones that might leak out. Plus, the old captain had connections in the corporations. Their ability to steal medicine and equipment for treatments relied on informants inside those companies.
The person responsible for the project that polluted Santo Domingo’s water, Maria Sparks, was one such informant.
Initially, they’d tracked her down for revenge. But after capturing her, they learned that even corporate dogs like her were victims, drinking the same contaminated water without being told the truth.
Maria Sparks had some conscience left and chose to work with them, occasionally leaking info about corporate transport convoys. This let them steal medicines and equipment.
While these stolen goods couldn’t fully cure the diseases, they eased the patients’ pain, helped them live more comfortably, and extended their lives. Most importantly, their constant efforts to steal and treat showed those suffering from the water’s pollution that someone still cared, giving them a sense of worth—something the government couldn’t provide.
"I’m not joking, Muammar. If it was that easy to get, I wouldn’t hide it. Wouldn’t it be simpler to let you handle it?"
Riku saw through the old captain’s thoughts. It was natural for someone as well-connected as him to be confident in his network.
"Let me give you one example: Deivo Collins. That should tell you how dangerous this medicine is."
Riku didn’t reveal his own identity but mentioned Deivo Collins to hint at the risks involved, hoping to deter the old captain.
"Biotechnica’s guy?"
As expected, the old captain’s brow furrowed at the name.
That “immortal demon” had been the talk of Night City lately. Even Santo Domingo had a “Demon Gang.” The old captain knew plenty about him. If this medicine was on the same level as Deivo Collins, it was indeed out of their reach.
"You..."
The old captain grew worried. Could Riku really get his hands on something with that level of secrecy? It was too dangerous!
He had reason to worry about Riku’s safety. Old V had told him the medicine was only the final step—Riku’s treatment was the key. Without Riku, the medicine alone wouldn’t work. Riku had to stay safe.
"Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control."
Riku’s expression was serious, playing his role to the fullest. Even someone as seasoned as the old captain couldn’t see through his layered deception.
Besides, everything Riku said could withstand scrutiny. No matter how hard the old captain tried, he’d find no trace of the medicine—just like trying to dig up info on Deivo Collins. It simply didn’t exist.
"..."
The old captain fell silent, his expression complex. This favor was too heavy—he didn’t have enough lives to repay it.
"I won’t see you off."
Riku knew when to stop. He didn’t say more, simply bidding the old captain farewell.
The old captain left in his car, visibly conflicted. He was clearly unhappy about not being able to help.
Still, he wasn’t entirely useless. At the very least, he could help Riku sell his goods. With his help, Riku’s black-market shop expanded its reach significantly.
Unlike Padre, the old captain was already in the “used car business,” with wide channels that came in handy.
"This old captain’s got some serious game!"
Just two days later, V couldn’t help but exclaim. She and Jack had been running around delivering orders nonstop. The old captain had brought in a ton of business—meat, fruit, tea, all sorts of stuff. His efficiency blew Padre’s out of the water.
Of course, Padre’s side was more stable, with loyal customers and fewer risks. The old captain’s side was a mixed bag, full of yokai—shady types—and required more caution.
"Is this the place?"
Jack parked the car in front of a four-story building. It was a big order, but the place didn’t look like it could afford it.
"Stay sharp."
V narrowed her eyes, sensing something off. The past two days had been profitable, but they’d also run into new problems—like people trying to scam them for a kurokui (black eat black) ambush.
"Damn it, why’s it so hard to make an honest buck? Always someone stirring up trouble."
Jack stopped the car, slung the bag of goods over his shoulder, and pulled out both guns, cursing as he stormed into the building.
V drew her Ajax, ready for action. Doing business on the black market meant you had to protect your goods, or you’d be eaten alive and have no one to blame but yourself.
Inside the building, they headed to the deal’s room. The people they passed didn’t bat an eye, just steered clear, afraid of getting caught in any crossfire.
Knock, knock, knock!
Jack Welles took the lead, banging on the door. V stayed behind, scanning their surroundings with her cybernetic eyes glowing.
Click.
The door opened, revealing two gaudily dressed guys blocking the way.
"You got the stuff?"
A guy with a mohawk spoke up, cigarette in mouth, blowing smoke right into Jack’s face.
"Yeah, where’s the money?"
Jack stepped back, his expression sour. That smoke wasn’t from a regular cigarette—these guys were probably high as kites.
"Let’s see the goods first."
Mohawk reached for the bag, but Jack slapped his hand away.
"Look with your eyes, not your hands."
Jack opened the bag, revealing a haul of meat, vegetables, and tea. These guys had ordered a lot.
"Nice, nice, looks good. Come in."
Mohawk grimaced after getting his hand slapped but rubbed it and stepped aside. Jack’s bulk wasn’t just for show.
Jack glanced at V. The street girl’s eyes were narrowed, her face lit with excitement. She nodded, and they stepped inside.
The moment they entered, the door slammed shut. The room was thick with smoke, and a group of people eyed V and Jack with mocking grins.
"Ha, we got a little onna too. I’m calling dibs!"
A hulking guy stood up, leering at V. The “little lady” he meant was none other than street V.
Bang!
Before he finished, a gunshot rang out. The big guy fell backward, a bullet hole clean through his forehead, his face frozen in a mix of lechery and shock—almost comical.
"Shut up if you can’t talk right."
V’s voice cut through, her cybernetic eyes already marking everyone in the room.
"If you want the goods, pay up now."
Jack scratched his nose, addressing the stunned thugs.
"Damn it! Waste ‘em!"
That lit the fuse. The thugs snapped out of it.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots echoed in the room. Jack dove at the guy barking orders, landing a fist the size of a sake jug square in his face, pinning him to the ground.
Someone tried to intervene, but Jack’s fist sent them flying into the wall with a crash.
"Don’t move!"
Jack hoisted the battered leader, roaring. The room fell silent.
"Five."
V snapped her fingers. In a flash, she’d taken out five thugs, each with a clean headshot.
Jack’s ability to grab the leader so easily owed a lot to her. She’d cleared the obstacles in his way.
"Let our boss go!"
The thugs’ shouts were more bark than bite now. In one exchange, they’d lost several guys, and their leader was caught.
"Where’s the money?"
Jack, still gripping the leader’s neck, asked bluntly. No way they were leaving empty-handed.
Bang!
A shot rang out. The leader was shot dead—by his own crew. Jack blinked, thrown off. Was this how it was gonna go?
"Kill ‘em! We’ll split the goods and the cash!"
Someone shouted, but before they could finish, a bullet took them out. V dropped them without hesitation.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The room erupted in gunfire again. Jack used the dead leader’s body as a shield, firing with his other hand.
V was even more direct, weaving through the hail of bullets, her Ajax spitting fire and reaping lives. The street girl’s face was alive with thrill. Her breathing chip boosted her agility, subdermal armor blocked bullets, and her targeting and ballistic implants ensured deadly precision.
She’d spent every last credit on her cyberware. It wasn’t top-tier, but it was more than enough to dominate these thugs. V was starting to show her tenka—her true potential.
"These idiots thought they could eat us. Hilarious."
The fight ended quickly. V started looting the battlefield, sticking to her habit of cleaning up after a fight.
"High out of their minds."
Jack shook his head, searching the room for valuables. To his surprise, he found freezers in the back, filled with meat—chicken, snake, rat, and the like.
"Wait... meat dealers hooked up with nomads outside the city?"
Seeing this, Jack got it. They’d run into competitors.
"What’s the old captain thinking?"
V rolled her eyes. Taking orders from rivals? Then she remembered—she’d said they’d take any job.
"Haha! I say let more of these baka come. Their cash is ours now!"
Jack laughed, pulling out a bag of money. These meat dealers clearly dealt offline, and now it was all theirs.
"Hell yeah! Black eating black is where the money’s at!"
They opened the bag and gasped in unison.
"We’re rich! Riku, we’re rich!"
V’s message popped up, leaving Riku confused. Rich? He knew the shop had been doing well, but this was a bit much.
Ignoring V, he turned his attention back to the scene before him. A group from the Sixth Street Gang was ambushing the Demon Gang. Outnumbered and caught off guard, the Demon Gang was getting crushed.
This was the power of controlling information. The Demon Gang couldn’t fight back and was quickly wiped out.
After the Sixth Street Gang cleared out, Riku approached the battlefield. He unleashed his bikaku (tail kagune), its tendrils writhing as he injected Rc cells into a corpse.
Buzz!
Under the Rc cells’ influence, the corpse began to move. Its severed head reattached, and vital signs slowly returned. But the body didn’t wake—Riku hadn’t used the Rc cell suppressant.
He took the “reviving” corpse to Old V’s secret base, now his dedicated operating room. Old V was happy to help the people of Santo Domingo.
Placing the “corpse” on the table, Riku began the surgery—a kakuho (kagune sac) transplant, skipping the compatibility test.
"As expected."
The surgery failed. The “revived” body wasn’t one of the lucky ones; its compatibility with Rc cells was low. But this was within Riku’s predictions.
Buzz!
Riku released his bikaku again, manipulating the mutating body. He was trying to create a kagune kaibutsu—a kagune monster.
Under his control, the rampant kagune calmed within the “corpse.” The kagune would replace the brain, becoming the body’s new control center.
The transformation was soon complete. The body on the table was unrecognizable, twisted like a patchwork monster.
"Well, it’s my first try. A bit rough."
Riku chuckled, a little embarrassed. He’d messed up—it should’ve retained a human shape. But it’d still work.
With a thought, Riku made the kagune monster move. It wasn’t alive—more like a puppet, a twisted mass of Rc cells.
"Since it’s not alive..."
Riku narrowed his eyes. Now was the moment to test his theory. Could his ketsugijutsu (blood demon art), his shadow, store this kagune monster?
Chapter 137: Flesh Puppet
Riku manipulated the kagune monster, attempting to store it in his shadow space. As expected, it failed. The kagune monster, created using his tail kagune, wasn’t accepted by the shadow space.
Ordinary kagune sacs or kagune could be stored without issue and used just fine when retrieved. Logically, this kagune monster was just a kagune sac combined with a mutated kagune, so there had to be a reason it couldn’t be stored.
“Let’s try modifying it.”
Undeterred, Riku had the kagune monster lie back on the operating table. He pulled out several Quinque steel tools and began tinkering with it, forming a hypothesis.
This time, Riku applied the techniques used to create Quinques. He aimed to fully transform the kagune monster into a Quinque, completely stripping away its vitality. Once its vitality was removed, the monster would become like a standard Quinque—lacking any malleability, reduced to a true flesh puppet.
Riku suspected there was something almost mystical about the kagune monster. For instance, Takatsume Izumi, when controlled, had a momentary resurgence of consciousness before death. Noro, too, briefly regained awareness before being destroyed. The original host’s consciousness lingered, sometimes even resurfacing briefly. Calling this thing a mere lifeless object didn’t quite add up.
It was a dead thing, yet not entirely dead—a bug in the system, so to speak. The shadow space clearly didn’t recognize this state.
But if he could fully strip its vitality, turning it into something akin to a Quinque, it should be accepted.
This was all Riku’s hypothesis, but experiments were meant to test theories. If it failed, he could remove the kagune sac and inject an Rc cell suppressant to destroy it without a trace. Riku kept a couple of Rc cell suppressant vials on hand for emergencies.
The Quinque creation techniques were, of course, borrowed from Kanou Akihiro. Though Kanou primarily studied medicine and had worked as a dissector, he hadn’t deeply researched Quinques. Still, Kanou was obsessed with anything related to “resurrection.” The “Standing Humanoid Quinque” was one such project.
The “Standing Humanoid Quinque” was a scrapped concept researched in Germany, where Kanou had first encountered it. Made from ghoul corpses, it used “kagune control” and “remote control mechanisms” to manipulate the body. The result was “corpse manipulation,” allowing dead ghouls to fight as if alive, even capable of speaking and communicating—a truly bizarre feat.
At Anteiku, Furuma Enji and Irimi Kaya, both SS-rank ghouls, were turned into “Standing Humanoid Quinques” after death. Kanou’s obsession with “resurrection” had revived this abandoned project with some success.
Of course, Kanou’s research was still in its early stages, far from producing such results. What Riku was doing could only be called a knockoff version of the “Standing Humanoid Quinque.”
Riku had no illusions about creating a full-fledged version—he knew his scientific expertise wasn’t there yet. For now, he was banking on Kanou’s continued efforts. But that didn’t stop him from experimenting on the kagune monster. Since it couldn’t die, it was the perfect test subject.
“Ugh, nope, let’s try again.”
“Argh, still wrong. One more time!”
“Again!”
Riku tried repeatedly. He lacked hands-on experience, but that was the point of the kagune monster. You can’t learn without practice, and to branch out, you first have to dive in.
After a day of countless failures, Riku finally succeeded. He stripped the kagune monster of its vitality, turning it into a Quinque-like entity.
Compared to a true “Standing Humanoid Quinque,” it was far inferior—no contest. But as a Quinque puppet, it was perfectly functional, combining the strengths of Quinque steel and Rc cells.
“I’ll call you Flesh Puppet.”
Looking at his creation, Riku felt a sense of pride and gave it a name. It was, after all, something he’d crafted himself.
If it were a perfect “Standing Humanoid Quinque,” he could’ve named its ability “Edo Tensei” (Impure World Reincarnation).
Riku owed much of this to “Nico the Okama’s” tail kagune. Without its ability to create kagune monsters, he wouldn’t have figured out the Flesh Puppet.
When Riku guided the Flesh Puppet into the shadow space, it worked effortlessly. Fully Quinque-ified, the Flesh Puppet had no resurrection-like abilities and was completely severed from its original host.
“If I made a bunch of these, could I pull off a Hyakki Yagyo (Night Parade of One Hundred Demons)? Become a swarm? An army of one?”
Riku retrieved the Flesh Puppet, getting a feel for controlling it. It was like an external avatar, moving with his thoughts, but it demanded some mental focus.
“Could I use a skill chip to control it?”
Sitting in a chair, Riku manipulated the eldritch-looking Flesh Puppet while pondering a lazier approach. If he could use a skill chip to control multiple Flesh Puppets, it’d make things much easier.
Ding ding ding!
A call came in—it was V’s avatar and number.
“Riku, what are you up to?! You didn’t reply to my messages!”
Riku answered, and V immediately questioned him, suspecting he was off doing something behind their backs.
“I’m in the lab, working on some research. What’s up?”
Riku cleaned himself up, stored the Flesh Puppet in the shadow space, and headed out while answering V.
“Didn’t you see my message? Jack and I scored big!”
V sounded excited, talking nonstop. Riku pieced it together: they’d raided a “chicken coop” and taken the profits too.
“How much?”
Riku was curious. V was so hyped—how big was the haul?
“You’re gonna flip—150,000!”
V finally revealed why they were so thrilled. Holy crap, 150,000—that’s worth celebrating.
“This business is crazy profitable. Add in what we’ve made selling our own stuff these past few days, we’ve got, what, over 200,000 in the account?”
Riku mused as he walked back, marveling at how fast the money rolled in. No wonder the best ways to get rich were written in the criminal code.
“You bet. You should’ve seen it—those chicken sellers had a ton of guys. Jack and I think they’ve got someone backing them, so we grabbed the cash and didn’t stick around. They might be onto us.”
V continued, explaining that the chicken sellers were clearly organized. They might already be targeting Riku’s group.
Chapter 138: Looking for Trouble
In the end, Riku couldn’t refuse the old captain’s help. The old man was just too enthusiastic—impossible to turn down. But Riku knew keeping that enthusiasm alive wasn’t easy. Favors like these shouldn’t be squandered on trivial matters.
How much could the old captain and his Santo Domingo crew really contribute in a fight?
Honestly, Riku wasn’t optimistic. He didn’t need too many hands meddling in combat. If a battle ended with too many Santo Domingo folks dead, the favor he was owed would take a massive hit.
Riku didn’t doubt the old captain’s giri—his sense of honor—or that of his Santo Domingo worker brothers. They’d fight, even die, to repay him. But Riku wanted that honor to endure, for those favors to be repaid in safer ways.
The old captain had serious charisma and influence. His crew bought into his ideals, which was rare. To Riku, keeping these Santo Domingo veterans alive, fighting to save their district, was far more valuable than letting them die in a shootout with gangs or meat dealers.
So, Riku asked them to stand by, ready to jump in if things went south. He told the old captain he didn’t want to start things off too kenka-bappa—all swords drawn and tense. Maybe they could even talk business with Kuri Hall.
The old captain agreed. As a fixer, fighting was always the last resort.
So, he reached out to Kuri Hall again, playing mediator, hoping to smooth things over.
Thanks to the old captain’s efforts, a meeting was arranged with less barutaka—gunpowder in the air. Both sides could finally sit down and talk, not just clash and yell for blood like before.
The old captain and his Santo Domingo brothers waited for Riku’s signal, while Riku, V, and Jack headed to the meeting as a trio.
Riku’s plan was simple: for fighting, the three of them were enough. Fewer people meant he could keep things under control if trouble broke out. His stock of Rc saibō yokuseizai (Rc cell suppressant) was running low—he couldn’t save many more people.
“Whoa, this place is fancy!”
In Pacifica, under an abandoned building, Jack Welles hopped out of the Thorton car.
The building, half-finished but decked out like a military fortress, drew a whistle from Jack.
“Looks like this business is raking it in,” V added, her gaze sweeping over the auto-turrets nearby. Their crimson targeting lasers locked onto them.
“No wonder they’re so cocky. They straight-up put a hit on us,” Jack said, his face serious. These guys were old players in Night City, and they deserved some respect.
“Hmph. Let’s see what they’ve got,” V scoffed, clearly unimpressed. If they were like the last bunch, she wasn’t worried, no matter how many showed up.
“Dokei wagō—small-time crooks, just fodder for the taking. Not worth our time,” Riku said as he stepped out of the car, earning looks from V and Jack. Man, this guy knew how to talk big.
Before V or Jack could respond, four heavily armed bruisers approached, their eyes brimming with hostility.
“Come in. Mr. Hall is waiting,” the leader said. The old captain’s reputation carried weight—without him vouching, these guys would’ve already thrown punches.
“Lead the way,” Jack said, exchanging glances with V and Riku.
The four turned and led them into the abandoned building. The meat dealers had set up quite the operation. Security was tight, with heavy firepower at the entrance.
Riku, V, and Jack scanned their surroundings, marking escape routes and prepping for a potential fight.
Besides armed guards, the building buzzed with couriers hauling goods to various shops. As Jack and V suspected, the place they’d taken out earlier was just a local distribution point. This was the headquarters.
Setting up in Pacifica was safer. In Night City, Pacifica was a no-man’s-land. Haitians, the Voodoo Boys, and omnipresent scavengers carved it out from the rest of the city.
No corporation wanted to touch this hot potato. Their logic was simple: if the cost outweighed the profit, it wasn’t worth the effort.
Pacifica’s value—or lack thereof—had been laid bare during the “Unification War” years ago. It was Night City’s front line, a warzone. As a free city, they constantly faced threats from Southern California.
If the New USA, pushed back by Arasaka in the last war, stirred up trouble again, Pacifica would be the first to take the hit. Any investments or industries here would vanish in a war, which was why Pacifica had fallen so far.
Once meant to be Night City’s beachfront tourist and shopping district, it was now just a graveyard of unfinished buildings, proof of a once-booming construction effort now gone to waste.
Rosalind Myers’ “Unification War” had obliterated Pacifica’s future.
The district was a tangled web of factions: exclusionist Haitians and Voodoo Boys held most of the turf, with scavengers, shady smugglers, fugitive criminals, covert agents, and the lingering mess of “Dogtown” from the last war.
If you were strong enough to hold your ground in Pacifica, you didn’t have to worry about NCPD or corporate interference—they didn’t bother coming here.
While Kang Tao still tried to muscle into the city proper, no corporation gave Pacifica a second glance. To them, it was a stinking pit of stubborn rocks—unless they ran out of options elsewhere, they wouldn’t even look.
Riku, V, and Jack observed the setup inside the building. These meat dealers had turned the organic meat trade into a full-blown industry.
Some handled incoming goods, sourced from nomad tribes outside Night City, Haitians, and Dogtown. Others stored it. They had a tight organization: butchers, processors, storage crews, couriers, and salespeople. If you squinted, this abandoned building was practically a corporation.
As the trio took in their surroundings, they drew stares. Those in the know glared with hatred—after all, Riku’s group had wiped out one of their sales points and pocketed the cash.
Those unaware just looked curious, their eyes lingering on Riku and V. Together, they were a striking pair, like a bishōnen and bishōjo combo straight out of a street anime. Jack, walking ahead, looked like their bodyguard.
The building was indeed unfinished, but the meat dealers had spruced it up. The six-story structure even had multiple elevators installed.
One elevator was exclusive to the boss, Kuri Hall, leading straight to the top floor.
They took it up to the sixth floor, where Kuri Hall’s trusted crew greeted the guards like old friends.
“Wow!” Jack let out a gasp as they stepped out. V’s face showed surprise too.
The sixth floor was a different world. While the lower floors were bare and unfinished, this was pure luxury.
“Pretty indulgent,” Riku remarked. This wasn’t an exaggeration—Kuri Hall clearly saw this floor as his personal palace. Why else would he deck it out so extravagantly?
They walked through a dazzling corridor, under the watchful eyes of guards, to a grand hall-like door.
“Boss, they’re here,” the leader said to the guard at the door.
The guard nodded, checked with someone inside, and pushed open the massive doors to let Riku’s group in.
“...”
V and Jack were stunned by the hall’s setup. It really was like a mini-palace! Kuri Hall sure knew how to live it up. To V and Jack, this made him even more despicable—making bank like this and still pulling kurokui (black eat black) stunts?
“Come in, we’ve been waiting,” a servant said, approaching the trio.
Tables lined the hall, laden with gourmet food. Serving girls moved about, attending to guests.
Clearly, this was a banquet, and the guests of honor were the three of them.
“Is this a power play?” V muttered through gritted teeth, her expression sour.
Three against a whole crowd—what was this guy trying to pull? Showing off to make them feel like small-time street rats?
“If they’re treating us, we’ll eat. What, they gonna poison us?” Jack said, shrugging. He grabbed two glasses of wine, handing one to V. Riku couldn’t drink.
Led by the servant, they finally met the man himself—Kuri Hall. V found it absurd. This guy was putting on airs like some big shot!
“You’re Kuri Hall?” V asked, wine glass in hand, her tone dripping with disdain.
Growing up scrapping on the streets, she’d never been to a place this fancy. Kuri Hall was just a meat dealer, same level as them, yet he was acting superior.
V didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. Those goons started it, trying to pull a kurokui. If they hadn’t, she and Jack wouldn’t have fought back. Add to that Kuri Hall’s initial demand for their heads and now this ostentatious display—V was thoroughly fed up with this slick, suit-wearing “success story.”
“You should call me Mr. Hall,” Kuri said, picking up on V’s attitude. He eyed the fiery street girl, clearly displeased.
He looked the part of a high roller—sharp suit, slicked-back black hair, wrinkles but full of energy.
“Alright, Mr. Hall. Care to explain why your people tried to kurokui us?” V said with a laugh, her words laced with venom. Jack winced—this street girl’s temper was about to blow things up.
Her attitude had an immediate effect. Kuri Hall’s crew glared at her, ready to throw down.
The banquet hall was packed with their people. They couldn’t believe V had the guts to mouth off to Mr. Hall like that. Was this woman suicidal?
“Young lady, you’re the ones who killed my men. I can’t answer your question because they’re all dead,” Kuri Hall said, raising a hand to calm his crew. His smile was polite, but his eyes glinted coldly, clearly offended by V’s attitude.
V didn’t seem like the old captain had described—someone here to settle things. She was here to pick a fight.
“So you’re saying we’re lying?” V shot back, catching his implication. He clearly didn’t believe her.
It made sense—his side was dead, so she could spin whatever story she wanted, right?
“You know what’s up,” Jack cut in. Was Kuri Hall playing dumb? If he knew nothing, how’d he know V and Jack were the ones who took out his crew?
“You kids take yourselves too seriously. A bit too aggressive. Maybe it’s time you learned a lesson,” Kuri Hall said, sighing at V, Riku, and Jack. Typical Night City youth—always acting like they owned the place.
“...”
Riku stood there, speechless. He hadn’t even said a word, and V and Jack had already tanked the talks in a few sentences.
But he got it. V and Jack were the ones targeted, named for death by Kuri Hall. They came in ready for a fight.
Chapter 139: Good Business is Good Business
"Old man, we've been way too nice to you!"
Kuri Horu's attitude was seriously pissing off V. Before the goons around her could even raise their guns, she’d already whipped out her own tetsubo of a pistol.
"You really think you can just push us around like we're your yakuza lackeys?"
V’s gun was aimed straight at Kuri Horu’s head. The guy didn’t even flinch—his face was as blank as a Noh mask.
One of Kuri Horu’s bodyguards moved in a flash. To Riku’s eyes, the guy’s speed spiked, his hand darting toward V’s gun to snatch it away.
Snap.
Riku stepped forward, his hand shooting out to grab the bodyguard’s arm, stopping him cold from disarming V.
"You try grabbing like that, what if her finger slips on the trigger?"
Riku let out a chuckle, smirking at the shocked bodyguard. At the same time, his left leg lashed out, sending another goon—who’d just started moving—flying with a single kick.
These two were clearly Kuri Horu’s top ronin, kitted out with Sandevistan implants. Their models were just as high-end as Riku’s, no slouch gear here.
You could tell this crew was raking in serious yen. Their equipment was top-tier, straight out of a Night City black market catalog.
But having the same Sandevistan model didn’t mean they could keep up. In front of Riku, these bodyguards were moving like they were stuck in slow-motion anime frames.
With a flick of his wrist, Riku tossed the first bodyguard aside, nearly snapping the guy’s arm in the process.
Kuri Horu backed off, his face finally showing a flicker of surprise.
Four bodyguards stepped in front of him, guns raised, aiming at Riku, V, and Jack. The tension in the room was like a katana about to slice through silk—one wrong move, and it’d all go to hell.
Kuri Horu was stunned. He’d thought the same as V at first: these punks were just small-time yakuza peddling organic meat in the black market. How tough could they be?
Kuri Horu was the biggest player in this game, so naturally, he looked down on these so-called “rivals” in the trade.
He’d agreed to this meeting partly to give face to the Old Captain and partly because he figured he could bring these punks under his wing to replace the men they’d taken out.
Did he care about those dead lackeys? Nah, not one bit. They were replaceable—cogs in the machine. He had plenty of grunts to man his sales points.
That’s why, even knowing V and Jack had wiped out his men, he didn’t take them seriously. Killing his disposable goons wasn’t some big deal. His top enforcers could’ve done the same, no sweat.
He saw value in their supply chain, something better than what his dead lackeys had. That’s why he wanted to bring them in.
But now? These punks were way too cocky, acting like their skills made them untouchable. If he didn’t teach them a lesson, they’d never fall in line.
Sure, these three had some skills, but against his overwhelming numbers, no amount of talent was gonna save them today.
“Leave them alive.”
Kuri Horu gave the order, still giving face to the Old Captain. The Captain’s reaction made it clear he valued these three, and Santo Domingo was a big market. Unless it was absolutely necessary, Kuri didn’t want to burn bridges with the old man. If the Captain decided to stir up trouble, their business would be screwed.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunshots rang out. Kuri Horu had given the order, but whether these three would walk away alive depended on how cooperative they were.
Spoiler: V wasn’t cooperative. She was the first to fire, and when she shot, she aimed to kill.
Several bodyguards dropped instantly, headshots clean as a shinken cut. V rolled behind cover right after firing.
Jack Welles flipped over a massive table, pulling out his twin pistols and unloading with a bang bang of his own.
Bullets flew as the bodyguards returned fire. After V’s opening salvo, they weren’t holding back on the “leave them alive” bit—they couldn’t. These three were too feral.
With Riku, V, and Jack coming in hot, the bodyguards knew it was kill or be killed. No question about their choice.
Vrrrm!
Riku drew his twin blades, “Bloodsong” and “Fortress,” activating his Sandevistan.
He took a deep breath, his body flickering like a shinobi in a jidaigeki flick. His dual katana danced in his hands as he moved with fluid, water-like steps, chasing straight for Kuri Horu.
Riku’s move drew every bodyguard’s attention in the banquet hall. He was the taunt character in this RPG, pulling all the aggro as bullets rained down on him.
V and Jack’s pressure eased up instantly. They went full shonen mode, unloading on the distracted guards. Riku was like the ultimate tank, soaking up all the heat.
Swapping her pistol for an Ajax rifle, V charged in behind Riku, her weapon spitting fire. Her subdermal armor was even pricier than Riku’s, giving her the confidence to go all-in.
Jack Welles elbowed a katana-wielding bodyguard to the ground. Sure, he was a crack shot with his twin guns, but he was also a beast in close combat—a boxer trained by Night City’s legendary Old Vic.
When it came to melee, Jack wasn’t scared of any pro fighter. “Come on! Taste Grandpa Jack’s iron fists!”
Jack stayed back, drawing the attention of bodyguards who’d dodged Riku’s onslaught. They thought they could take him alive.
Running out of ammo, Jack didn’t bother reloading. He holstered his guns, raised his massive fists, and went to town on the guards. His breathing technique chip kicked in, boosting his physical stats as he danced through the crowd like a kendo master, landing left and right hooks.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Riku’s blades deflected bullets, redirecting them back at the shooters. Several guards dropped as their own rounds hit them.
The banquet hall was a mess—tables flipped, food and drinks splattered everywhere, waiters and waitresses fleeing in panic.
In a few steps, Riku closed in on Kuri Horu. The guards around him rushed forward, only to be cut down like sashimi by Riku’s blades.
Sandevistan wasn’t exactly rare—Kuri Horu’s top guys all had it—but the reaction-enhancing implant that dominated against normal foes was useless against Riku. The gap was just too wide.
Vrrrm!
The two bodyguards Riku had tossed and kicked earlier came charging back, clearly the strongest of Kuri’s crew.
“I told you, you’re just zakko—small fry trying to act tough.”
In one exchange, Riku lopped off their heads. Their attacks landed on him but couldn’t break through.
A layer of shadow armor slowed their blows, subdermal armor tanked the rest, and with his [Absolute Domain Field Lv3] fused with Rc cells, Riku wasn’t just durable—he was a walking mecha with insane recovery.
These two underestimated Riku’s defense. They fought to stop him, but they couldn’t even scratch his turtle shell.
Boom.
Riku’s foot sent Kuri Horu sprawling. He held back 99.99% of his strength—otherwise, the old man would’ve been paste.
“Who the hell are you people?!”
Kuri Horu’s calm facade was gone, replaced by fear and confusion as he stared at Riku.
Normal mercs or meat peddlers couldn’t fight like this. V and Jack were at least within reason, but Riku? He was on a whole other level, like something out of a shonen battle arc.
Kuri Horu knew this punk wasn’t someone a small-time black market boss like him could handle. Without heavy weapons, they couldn’t even touch him.
“Just your fellow yakuza in the trade.”
Riku squinted, grinning as he answered. His words threw Kuri Horu for a loop.
“Biotech company people?! Why?! Why wasn’t I told?! I paid good yen to keep those connections tight!”
Kuri Horu’s outburst showed his panic. His empire was built on biotech company ties—without them, he’d never have gotten this big.
It made sense. Small-time organic meat deals flew under the radar, but Kuri Horu’s scale? Biotech companies wouldn’t just ignore that, no matter how chill they seemed.
Riku rolled his eyes. He hadn’t even used his full abilities, and he was already being mistaken for a biotech company enforcer?
But then it clicked. Thinking back to Night City game news, Riku realized Kuri Horu’s days were numbered anyway. His empire was doomed.
Biotech companies would soon unleash a massive malaria outbreak in the Valley District, pinning it on illegal organic meat trades to deepen public distrust. How many would die? They didn’t care.
“Think a company’s gonna send you a memo before they crush you?”
Riku sighed. This was Night City—a world ruled by corporations. Kuri Horu had clawed his way to the top as a black market meat king, but one whim from a company, and it’d all vanish, dragging countless others down with him.
Kuri Horu’s eyes dimmed. He’d always known this day might come. His business was built on skimming from the companies’ profits—once they noticed, he was done.
He’d played it safe for years, keeping his operation small enough to avoid trouble. But ambition drove him to this point—eliminating rivals, swallowing their channels and markets to become the organic meat oyabun.
That ambition was his downfall.
Capital always starts dirty. Kuri Horu never pretended to be a saint. His rise was paved with bodies and broken families—a bloody sengoku road.
Splurch!
Riku’s blade pierced Kuri Horu’s heart. The old man’s eyes widened.
“Guess you got what was coming.”
That was Kuri Horu’s final thought, a summary of his life.
But one thing he could say with pride: his quality control was ironclad. He never sold bad meat, never caused a disease outbreak. Sure, it was for long-term profit, but on that point, he had no regrets.
“Kuri Horu’s dead!”
V shouted the moment Riku’s blade did the deed. She’d been right behind him, charging like a shonen heroine, and saw it all. As soon as Kuri dropped, she let it rip.
Her street-punk yell carried across the hall. Jack Welles, wiping blood from his face, broke into a grin.
“Your boss is gone! Still wanna fight?”
Jack eyed the remaining guards. Around him lay seventeen or eighteen bodies, all taken down by his fists, his knuckles dripping red.
The hall had maybe seventy or eighty guards to start. Now, less than half were standing. With Kuri Horu dead, most had no reason to keep fighting.
Some didn’t give up, though. Friends and brothers had died at Riku, V, and Jack’s hands, and they wanted revenge.
For those guys, Riku, V, and Jack showed no mercy. If you kept coming, you weren’t walking away.
Soon, only about twenty guards who’d surrendered remained, alongside Riku, V, and Jack. The battle was over.
[Ding! Experience +128]
As the fight ended, the system tallied the XP. It was pitifully low—Riku had taken out at least twenty or thirty guys.
As his strength grew, XP was getting harder to come by. Some enemies gave none, and others that used to be worth 5 points were now just 1.
Riku ignored the XP screen and called the Old Captain. “Old Captain, bring your crew. Time to clean up.”
“What do we do with this place? Take it over?” V asked, sidling up to Riku. The street punk was buzzing with excitement, eyeing Kuri Horu’s corpse with smug satisfaction.
Killing the guy was great, but taking his empire? Even better. They could seize it without breaking a sweat.
“Can we even hold it down?” Jack chimed in, less certain. The terrified guards were looking at them like they were kaiju, and the workers probably wouldn’t be fans either.
“No need for this place to keep running. But the business? Someone’s gotta keep it going.”
Riku spoke slowly. Kuri Horu’s operation was too tangled with biotech companies. In a couple of years, they’d wipe it out. No point keeping it alive here.
But Kuri Horu’s business wasn’t inherently rotten. Organic meat served the masses—families who couldn’t afford synthetic stuff. It was risky, sure, but better than choking down mystery protein blocks.
Kuri had kept quality tight, avoiding any major outbreaks. For his customers, his meat was probably their best protein source.
Their beef was with Kuri Horu himself, not his customers’ way of life. The organic meat trade needed to keep going—just in a different, quieter way.
Biotech companies noticed Kuri because his operation got too big and too profitable, skimming from their bottom line. Even if the profit was pocket change to them, they wouldn’t let it slide.
To stay under the radar, you’d need to shrink the scale and ditch the profits. The second part? That’s the real challenge.
Chapter 140: The Voodoo Boys Arrive
The news of Kuri Hall’s death spread like wildfire among the bodyguards, and at first, the workers in the abandoned building refused to believe it.
For years, Kuri Hall had ruled this place with an iron grip, shredding every challenger who dared oppose him. No one could shake his reign.
But the truth was undeniable. Kuri Hall and his crew had been taken out by just three people.
The workers were thrown into confusion and uncertainty about their future. They had no loyalty to Kuri Hall—he wasn’t exactly a “man of the people.” The lower ranks were managed by his underlings, not him directly.
What worried them was simple: with Kuri Hall gone, would they still have jobs?
The Voodoo Boys, Haitians, and nomad tribes all dealt directly with Kuri Hall, who tightly controlled the supply chain—it was the foundation of his power. The transport crews only handled deliveries to Night City’s districts. The ones actually sourcing the goods were Kuri Hall’s trusted inner circle.
Naturally, those trusted lackeys were the first to die at the hands of Riku, V, and Jack. This meant the company’s structure was still intact, but the supply chain was cut off. Without goods, the workers had no jobs.
“Don’t worry, we’re not letting this business die. You’ll still have work,” Jack Welles said, stepping up to stabilize the situation. Riku wasn’t interested in crowd control, and V wasn’t great at it either.
Jack was in his element, his smooth-talking charm winning over anyone. His injuries from the fight had already healed, thanks to Riku’s bikaku (tail kagune).
Jack gave Riku’s new ability a big thumbs-up. With healing like that, they could fight without worrying about lasting damage. Riku even claimed he could reattach a severed head, though Jack and V were skeptical—and hoped they’d never have to test it.
Despite Jack’s efforts, the workers weren’t reassured. Their glances at Riku, V, and Jack were filled with fear. They had no choice but to trust Jack’s words—the trio was clearly not someone they could oppose.
Amid the workers’ worries, the old captain finally arrived with his crew—a group of burly blue-collar workers from Santo Domingo. The bodyguards welcomed them respectfully, as if they were returning home. No resistance at all.
Seeing Riku, V, and Jack, the old captain’s jaw dropped. It was clear the trio had taken over as the new rulers of the place. The bodyguards and workers didn’t dare breathe too loudly around them, their fear palpable.
“You… you already took care of Kuri Hall?” the old captain asked, as stunned as the workers.
He’d expected a tough fight when he arrived, but now he was being told the battle was already over?
“Yup, that guy’s long gone,” V replied, sizing up the old captain with a curious look that left him puzzled.
“What’s up, V? Something weird about me?” he asked, confused by her scrutinizing gaze.
“Nothing. Let Riku explain,” V said, shaking her head. Riku had suggested handing the organic meat business to the old captain, and she was reserving judgment.
The old captain had a solid reputation, and his work was admirable, but could he resist the temptation of profit? V wasn’t so sure. Even she had been momentarily swayed by the lavish setup Kuri Hall had put together.
The old captain turned to Riku, speaking first. “Mr. Riku, you should’ve called us sooner,” he said with a wry smile, feeling like they’d made the trip for nothing.
But deep down, he was shocked. He knew Riku was strong, but this strong? Three people taking down Kuri Hall—a feat unimaginable for ordinary mercs. Kuri Hall had been a fixture for years, with a crew of tough fighters, yet Riku’s trio had wiped them out without a scratch?
The old captain swallowed hard. No wonder Riku had set his sights on the Demon Gang. The guy had the skills to back up his boldness.
“You’re not too late. I didn’t call you here for nothing—there’s work for you,” Riku said with a smile. He genuinely planned to hand the organic meat business to the old captain, which was why he’d asked him to bring his crew.
The headquarters had to go. Kuri Hall’s operation was tied to Biotechnica, and he’d been paying them off to stay safe. While Biotechnica wouldn’t care who paid, Riku knew it was only a matter of time before they cracked down on this place as an example. The headquarters had to be abandoned.
Riku planned to break the operation into smaller pieces, spreading it across Night City’s districts. A centralized hub was too conspicuous—a sitting duck for corporate attention.
To avoid drawing Biotechnica’s eyes, two things were key: decentralize the business and keep profits low. High profits attracted corporate dogs like moths to a flame. But lowering profits tested human nature—who’d willingly earn less when they could make more?
Kuri Hall couldn’t let go of the profits, and no matter how grand his operation was, the moment Biotechnica noticed, it all crumbled to dust.
The old captain, though, was the rare type who could forgo profit. Riku trusted him to run Santo Domingo’s share of the meat business and prioritize the people over money. He wouldn’t give it away for free—worker wages, transport, and storage costs still had to be covered—but he’d keep profits as low as possible to benefit Santo Domingo’s people. Riku had no doubts about that.
“Hand Santo Domingo’s organic meat business to me?” the old captain said, visibly shocked by Riku’s proposal.
Honestly, he didn’t get it. Riku, V, and Jack had taken down Kuri Hall but weren’t keeping his market share for themselves? Even without knowing the full details, the old captain knew Kuri Hall had been raking in serious cash—a steady, long-term income that wasn’t easy to give up.
“Biotechnica’s got their eyes on this place,” Riku explained, and the old captain nodded in understanding. No matter how big the profit, you had to be alive to enjoy it.
“No surprise there. Kuri Hall was too flashy,” the old captain said. Skimming off corporations required subtlety—one wrong move, and you were done for.
Riku shared his plans with the old captain, who looked even more surprised.
“This is… unexpected,” the old captain said bluntly. He held himself to high standards, willing to sacrifice money, time, effort, even his life for Santo Domingo. But he didn’t expect others to do the same.
If Riku’s group took over Kuri Hall’s business, as long as they kept the meat quality in check and avoided causing outbreaks, how much they earned or sold was their business. The old captain wouldn’t have said a word.
He never imagined Riku would hand the business over, not for profit, but to avoid disrupting the lives of Santo Domingo’s people after taking out Kuri Hall.
“Feeling touched, old captain? This is our support for Santo Domingo—to put the power back in the people’s hands!” Jack said, clapping the old captain’s shoulder with a cheeky grin. He backed Riku’s decision.
The business was a hot potato with Biotechnica watching, and Riku was already dodging them. Plus, he, V, and Jack didn’t have the time or energy to manage it. Small-scale was fine, but a big operation came with too many headaches. They lacked the experience, so it was better to let a pro handle it.
“Alright, I’ll shamelessly accept,” the old captain said without much hesitation. Letting the meat supply chain collapse could hurt a lot of families.
The bigger issue was whether a new meat dealer could maintain quality. Kuri Hall was ruthless, but his operation never caused outbreaks like epidemics.
“Couldn’t ask for better,” Riku said, smiling. The old captain’s acceptance was ideal.
To put it simply, Kuri Hall was like the Lich King, and the meat dealers were his Scourge. The Lich King’s presence was crucial to controlling the chaos. Without him, the meat dealers would run wild, ignoring quality and likely causing outbreaks—or worse, plagues.
Riku didn’t have the time, and V and Jack lacked the management skills. They were fighters, not businessmen.
The old captain, a seasoned fixer, was perfect. He already ran a used car business and had a loyal crew. He had the management skills and the character, proven time and again, to be the ideal “Lich King” for this operation.
“Leave Heywood to Padre,” the old captain suggested. Kuri Hall’s business mainly covered Santo Domingo and Heywood, as they bordered Pacifica.
Westbrook and City Center—upscale residential and commercial districts—weren’t markets for Kuri Hall’s organic meat. Riku’s own business, however, thrived there. Watson, at the opposite end of Night City from Pacifica, was too far for convenient transport, and its local meat dealers were already a mixed bag, with Kuri Hall’s crew just one of many.
“Sounds good. Heywood’s in Padre’s hands,” Riku agreed. He’d already messaged Padre, explaining everything, and Padre had agreed without hesitation.
Riku wasn’t worried about whether the old captain and Padre could handle the business. They had capable people, and Kuri Hall’s remnants were leaderless and panicking.
If push came to shove, Riku, V, and Jack could help out. Negotiating was tough, but taking out rebellious punks was easy.
Sure enough, Riku’s hunch was right. Though the headquarters was gone and Kuri Hall was dead, some distribution points refused to fall in line.
Without Kuri Hall, the “Scourge” hadn’t seen Riku, V, and Jack’s strength firsthand, so they didn’t respect the new bosses—Padre and the old captain.
The old captain and his crew showed their mettle. After getting the distribution point data from the headquarters, they swept through Santo Domingo. Those who complied were reorganized; those who didn’t were eliminated. Soon, all of Santo Domingo’s organic meat shops were under the old captain’s control.
In Heywood, Padre cleaned house just as easily, with Jack and V pitching in. As Heywood natives, they were inspired by the old captain’s work in Santo Domingo and wanted to do something for their own district, starting with the meat business.
With the distribution points sorted, the next issue was the supply chain. That wasn’t a problem—Kuri Hall was gone, but the Voodoo Boys, Haitians, and nomads would still want to sell.
Sure enough, it didn’t take long for someone to show up. The Voodoo Boys arrived at the abandoned building, right in their Pacifica turf.
“Where’s Kuri Hall?” asked a man with dreadlocks, tattoos, and ornaments made from rodent bones.
“Voodoo Boys?” V and Jack greeted him, recognizing his distinct “Voodoo style.” He was clearly a Haitian from the Voodoo Boys.
They didn’t like that name, though. To them, “Voodoo Boys” was a stereotype slapped on by Night City folks. They weren’t the backward voodoo practitioners people assumed.
Sure, the Voodoo Boys were founded by voodoo priests and priestesses, but their version of voodoo wasn’t what people thought. They didn’t mess with magic—they were netrunners, hackers, far from savages.
The Voodoo Boys were Haitian immigrants, part of the Creole culture’s elite, not barbarians. They saw themselves as protectors of Haitian refugees, responsible for their safety and interests, and were the de facto leaders of Pacifica’s Haitian community.
V and Jack, however, knew little about the Voodoo Boys, holding only the usual Night City stereotypes.
