When Peter inserted the neural unit chip into Mann's slot, Mann suddenly calmed down.
His pupils refocused.
"What happened? Why am I lying on the ground?"
Looking at Pila and Dorio, who were restraining his arms and legs, Mann asked in confusion.
"What are you doing? Why are you holding me down?"
Smack!
Dorio slapped Mann hard across the face.
"You went full-on cyberpsychotic just now! If Peter hadn't shown up in time, the Terrorist Mobile Squad would've executed you on sight!"
Mann blinked in disbelief. "What are you talking about? I was just talking to you, and then, out of nowhere, I was on the ground."
He was completely lost. The last thing he remembered was chatting with Dorio about his physical condition. He had been feeling uneasy and asked "857" when the data extraction would begin. Then—nothing. Just a blur and suddenly being pinned down.
"Alright, let him go. He's stabilized for now," Peter said calmly from the side.
Hearing Peter's reassurance, Dorio and Pila finally released Mann. However, they remained on guard, watching him closely in case he lost control again.
"I warned you, Mann," Peter said, shaking his head. "You didn't listen. You've been overusing your prosthetic augmentations."
"This was necessary. It couldn't be avoided," Mann said defensively.
Dorio exploded. "Necessary? That scavenger you killed last time—he was just a scrawny thug! And you used both the leg acceleration module and the ejector system? How the hell is that normal use?"
"I'm starting to think your brain's already fried! You idiot!"
Peter's tone turned cold. "I've warned you about the risks of prosthetic overuse. If it were up to me, I'd have those two fifth-gen prosthetics removed. If you lose control and hurt your own team, it'll be too late."
"No—scratch that. You already did go cyberpsychotic."
Dorio furrowed her brows, suddenly thinking of something. "Peter… isn't cyberpsychosis supposed to be incurable? But when you plugged that chip into Mann's neural slot, he went back to normal."
Everyone froze for a moment. Usually, when someone showed signs of cyberpsychosis, the standard response was to put them down immediately. There had never been a known cure.
Peter explained, "It's not a cure. But it can suppress the symptoms."
"Suppress?" Pila repeated. "Like how?"
Peter crossed his arms. "Do you know who the Terrorist Mobile Squad really is?"
"Yeah. What about them?" Dorio asked, still confused.
Peter smirked. "Ninety-nine percent of them are cyberpsychotics."
"What?!"
Dorio and Pila's jaws dropped.
Peter continued, "You think sane people go head-to-head with raging cyberpsychos every day? Of course not. They're all enhanced and unstable, but they've found a way to keep it under control."
"But how?" Dorio asked, stunned.
"I don't know exactly. But I've managed to design a chip that works in a similar way. It doesn't eliminate the psychosis, but it keeps it suppressed—at least for now."
Peter pointed at Bi En, who was still slumped in a corner. "He's got one of my chips in his neck. I made it recently."
Mann's eyes lit up. "So you're saying…"
"Don't get any ideas," Peter cut in sharply. "Nothing in this world is free."
Mann's hope was immediately doused.
"The chip in your neck? The casing alone costs over 100,000 credits. And the data it contains—I wrote that myself. There's nothing else like it in the world."
"More importantly, I can't guarantee how long the chip will last or how well it'll hold up against prosthetic-induced neural erosion."
"In simple terms," Peter said, "once the chip wears out, the prosthetics will start eroding your nervous system at an accelerated rate. And if that happens, cyberpsychosis will hit you harder than ever before."
He was being honest. Even though he had modeled the data based on high-intensity human neural simulations, it was impossible to predict how long it would work in real conditions.
"I'll pay you. Whatever it costs," Mann said, gritting his teeth.
Peter scoffed. "You think this is about money? How much do you think your life is worth?"
Silence filled the room.
Everyone knew how much time, effort, and resources Peter had poured into developing the chip. It wasn't something they could just buy off the shelf or even afford, realistically.
Rebecca tried to speak up. "Peter, we've all known each other a long—"
"No," Dorio snapped, cutting her off. "Don't even go there."
This was Night City—where loyalty and friendship were just words. Peter hadn't shown up because of some unshakable bond. He came because of Sasha. Maybe he was familiar with the crew, but that didn't mean he owed them anything.
"Alright then…" Mann muttered. "What should I do now?"
Peter laid it out plainly. "You've got two options. First—remove some of your prosthetics. But we both know you'd rather die than go through with that."
"Second, join my team. If you work under me, I can perform regular neural scans and monitor your condition."
Mann stared at the ceiling, completely still.
Dorio turned to Peter, her expression full of conflict. "Mann…"
Mann interrupted her, "Peter, Dorio—leave me alone. I need to think."
Peter nodded and walked out without a word. Rebecca followed him.
Dorio sighed, nudging Pila. "Come on. Let's give him space."
Back in the hallway, Rebecca tried to clarify, "Peter, I didn't mean anything by what I said earlier."
Peter gently rubbed her head. "I know what you meant, Rebecca. But someone like Mann… he has to make his own choice, sooner or later."
"Thanks, Peter," Dorio added, her voice softer now. "I believe Mann will figure it out eventually."
She was truly grateful. Even if Peter's conditions sounded harsh—almost opportunistic—if he hadn't intervened tonight, Mann would've either been gunned down by the Mobile Squad or, worse, recruited by one of the megacorps.
And everyone knew what happened to people like that.
Just look at Adam "Heavy Hammer."
And Mann wasn't even in the same league.
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