"Hold up—don't rush in yet. Let's keep watching."
Roqi held Jackie back as he was about to charge, lying flat on the cold rooftop, eyes half-closed, observing carefully.
The vehicle setup screamed Wraiths' style—same chaotic mess they used when ambushing them back in Stone Ridge.
Agile little cars with high mobility swarmed the main truck like flies, offering coverage from front to back. But unlike corpo convoys, they didn't care about formation—just barreled in full force. Once there, they parked wherever they felt like it.
An off-roader blocked the entire side entrance of the black market, cutting off retreat.
Good news.
With just a few explosives, Roqi and the crew could blow the whole convoy sky-high—Wraiths and all.
Bad news?
They had civilians in tow.
Roqi wasn't about to commit a full-scale slaughter just to complete the Padre's job. But letting the Wraiths walk? That meant failing the mission and leaving those poor bastards to a fate worse than death.
Whether they struck now or waited, both were gambles. But in a world where the worst-case scenario was already reality—either dead or sold off in chunks—waiting wasn't a bad call.
"Shit. These Wraiths look way too comfortable doing this kind of business," V muttered, exhaling sharply. "Heads up—someone's coming."
Under the deepening orange glow of dusk, a man emerged from the building's shadow. A few Wraiths spotted him and casually strolled over, weapons slung, gesturing as they talked.
"Yo, what took you so long?" one barked.
V's Kiroshi optics captured the audio feed and piped it into the team's comms.
"Had a little trouble to handle first," the man replied, unfazed. "What's with this batch? Feels off."
"What do you expect? The corps picked through it first. It's not like you're using them—someone'll buy."
The Wraith sneered, shaking his head with a shrug.
The buyer rolled his eyes and sighed, stepping behind the container to inspect the goods, muttering curses as he caught the smell.
"Alright, boys, unload 'em," one Wraith called out, waving the others down. "Your job now."
"Not our loss if it doesn't sell."
The buyer didn't argue—he'd seen worse.
"The corps already made their eddies."
The Wraiths didn't care.
"Let's bounce, chooms—time to get drunk and laid. I want to hit the city!"
"Hell yeah! Who's down for girls and chrome?"
"What do you mean or? You can't do both?"
...
As the Wraiths' laughter faded into the distance, Roqi's deadpan expression mirrored Jackie's raised eyebrows.
They'd prepared for all kinds of scenarios.
A bloody firefight. A tactical diversion. A stealth kill spree.
They didn't expect the enemy to just... leave.
Just like that.
Leaving behind a few poor bastards to finish unloading the "goods." And judging from their tone, even those were planning to join the party soon.
"What the hell am I supposed to say? That the Wraiths have a vibrant social life?" Roqi muttered with a dry chuckle.
Logic? Don't expect it from criminals that spit in the face of logic.
But this? This was a golden opportunity. And they weren't about to waste it.
"Yo, help out already—get these bodies down here!" a Wraith grunted, dragging a bound man who still struggled faintly like a dying fish.
"Bam! Shut it!" one of the black market guys barked, kicking the squirming captive. "Shit stinks—couldn't you rinse them off? The whole truck smells like piss and ass."
"Then go clean 'em yourself," the Wraith replied. "They'll get processed anyway."
Everything out of their mouths made Roqi's blood pressure spike.
Filthy scum. Every last one.
The buyer adjusted his hat, brushing dust off his overpriced jacket—black market "designer" gear, the kind that cost too much for guys like him to wear.
He spun around again, shouting at the Wraiths for making too much noise.
Meanwhile, his brain floated off to think about dinner. Synthmeat and BBQ sauce again? Probably. All the joints nearby were the same, just different names and same greasy vats.
Schlick—
Another weird sound, this time closer.
What kind of freaky noises were they making just unloading people?
Splat—
A warm liquid sprayed across his face.
He wiped it, looked down—blood.
Looked up—
And froze.
A figure stood two meters away. Expressionless. Silent.
Shing—
A cold blade touched his throat. Steel sharp enough to tickle and sting at once.
Click.
A pistol against the back of his skull.
He had never felt so small.
...
"Haaaahhhhhh..."
Roqi yawned long and loud.
V was interrogating the buyer.
The guy didn't last long.
Not slick like Lukas. He spilled everything within minutes. Then V snapped his neck and dumped the body.
Sixth Street. That was his gang. The Wraiths had brought the shipment.
So it wasn't just one gang. The Wraiths had partners all over Night City.
The black-market supply chain? Complicated... but simple.
Step one: Wraiths import kidnapped people via smuggling routes run by Snake Nation nomads.
Step two: Once inside Night City, victims were sorted.
Top-tier: sold to rich buyers as luxury packages.
Mid-tier: scooped up by corps.
The rest? Dumped into lower-tier black markets at clearance prices.
During fire-sale periods, even Scavs would show up to buy.
Roqi had once found logs in Masahiro Jotaro's database—records of foreign sex slave trades. That freak liked them broken. First rape, then kill. Or kill, then rape. Then again. Sick bastard.
You forgot Jotaro?
That Tyger Claw freak shooting rape-torture BDs in Arroyo.
The victims came from everywhere. Different countries. Different languages. Different faces.
But they were all the same kind of people: regular, powerless civilians.
This was a global industry. Snake Nation in California. Some Wolf gang or Rat Cartel across the ocean.
Not just imports. Exports too.
Some ended up in Night City. Others were shipped out.
Beaten, drugged, starved, raped, terrified—those who survived were sold like meat at black-market auctions.
Familiar?
Roqi pondered.
From the 15th to 17th centuries, the opening of global sea routes launched trade between East and West. Colonialism. Mercantilism.
In 2077, it wasn't "triangular trade."
It was global supply chains.
Human resource redistribution.
That's what people called "Renaissance," right?
Roqi popped some gum, mint masking a bit of Night City's rot.
He sat on the rooftop, cross-legged, rifle beside him.
Below, soft country music played from scav vehicles. An oil drum burned faintly. Jackie and V grilled something on a hijacked food cart. Gustavo sat on the van roof, rifle in hand, deep in thought.
With the chaos dialed down, Night City didn't feel like a war zone for once.
A drunk Wraith staggered back toward the trucks. His boots dragged. He blinked at the firelight, barely registering the scene.
"Ahaha! Barbecue! Music!"
Whack.
Jackie slammed him to the ground with a rifle butt. V dragged the unconscious body into a shadowed corner.
That made four. Four drunk assholes. Useless, wasted. Not worth questioning.
No time to nurse them back from hangovers.
"Don't worry. Eat. We're not the bad guys."
Jackie held out a tray of hot food. Nothing fancy. But to people who hadn't eaten in days—it was a feast.
He looked rough. Scarred. But his smile was real.
At first, the captives had flinched at the sight of him—hulking, armed, intimidating.
But now? He was a gentle giant. A savior.
Hesitation turned to hunger. Tears and snot mixed into food. They wolfed it down, swallowing trauma and pain in every bite.
A starving child licked sauce from filthy fingers.
A violated woman clutched her portion and ate in silence, holding herself tightly.
A scruffy young man chewed slowly, cherishing every bite.
There were no corpses to mourn. The Wraiths had dumped them long before.
Roqi didn't join them. He didn't speak.
He just sat and watched.
He thought he was used to this world's cruelty.
But if this was just the tip of the iceberg… why were there always new horrors?
It's easy to be numb by day.
But at night?
That's when it hurts.
He hated scenes like this—moments that made your throat ache and chest tighten. He hated them more than he could explain.
He had fire in his chest.
And he wanted to unleash it.
Burn the night.
Roqi's Diary – Day N in Night City: Fuck this place.
-
-
-
🤖 My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew?
📢 Cyberpunk Alert! 📢
My Girlfriend's a Cyberpsycho—Who Knew? now has 100+ chapters ahead on Patreon! 💘💥
Romance, madness, and chrome—read far ahead with early access.
🛑 Other Patreon novels include:
Cyberpunk: The Relentless
Cyberpunk: Lucy Adopted Me and I Got a System
My Cyberpunk 2077 Simulator
Game of Thrones: Secrets Beneath the Dreadfort
The Rebirth of Harry Potter
Dragon King of Ice and Fire
Star Wars: Relics of the Past
R18: Reincarnated in Her World
🔗 www.patreon.com/c/MrMagnus👤 SrMagnus🐦 https://x.com/SrMagnusBook
⚠️ More Power Stones = more chapters!