Chapter 28

Man, it’d been a while since I went through customs, but having a familiar face on duty really saved my ass.

And damn, it felt good to flash a little seniority in front of that new Nomad girl with the killer curves. Not gonna lie—there were moments I thought, Jack should be the one handling this.

Jack’s an old buddy. Met him when I was drowning in tequila at Mama Welles’ bar. Even after finding out I was Corp-affiliated, he treated me like we’d been friends for years. Solid guy.

“So, where we headed?”

“Little Boss’s place. Doubles as our hangout.”

When Jenkins got me canned from the Corp, Jack threw an arm around my shoulder and took me in. And then—bam. I met her. The “Dragon Tattoo” Jugra-Kagura girl. Blew my damn mind.

The Afterlife incident must’ve left a crater in the fixer scene, 'cause people started calling her that—half awe, half fear. Hard to believe the girl with that towering dragon inked down her back was just fifteen. Hearing the rumors? Threw me for a loop.

“Wait… she’s a fixer, right?”

“Yeah, but Little Boss is… different. Fixing’s more of a side gig.”

“...A side gig.”

“Main thing’s ripperdoc work. Calls herself a techie, but she’s a legit prodigy. Genius-level. But she’s not a brat—doesn’t even act like she’s special. Down-to-earth, aside from her totally busted sense of money. Folks like you? She’d ask if you even exist.”

“Uh… I’m drawing a total blank here.”

“You’ll get it when you meet her. Free-spirited, self-made force of nature. Also kinda kill-em-all.”

“That last part’s... concerning??”

But hey—he’s not wrong. Seriously.

After Jack picked me up, we debuted as a merc duo under Sachi’s support. And the jobs? Nonstop extermination gigs. Every briefing had at least one “kill” in it. When I asked if she was trying to make it rain blood in Night City, she just deadpanned, “That’d spread infections and contamination.” The way her pale Japanese face lit up with those shadowed eyes while saying that? Straight out of a J-horror flick.

“Anyway, Little Boss runs her ripper clinic on the first floor during the day, so the second-floor office’s wide open. Since we didn’t have a base, Jacky let us use it as a favor. Sometimes her other pet team crashes here too, so it gets loud.”

“...Two pet teams? How much eddies is this girl sitting on?”

“...Off the record? She’s also an arms dealer. Could be rolling in it, but she keeps ripping out of loyalty to Wakako Okada—Tyger Claws’ shadow matron. Honestly? She works harder than I ever did at the Corp. Makes me feel real small—equal parts guilt and terror.”

According to Jack, the place used to be a clinic. Then she casually built a gun shop and a Delamain Medical branch on either side. When Jack gave her the ol’ “help me out” look, she expanded the second floor into an office and rented it to us.

Her title’s a mouthful: Wakako Okada’s personal ripperdoc, Japantown fixer, Delamain Medical investor/supervisor, gun shop owner, and leading researcher on cyberpsychosis. Oh—and she’s got two pet teams.

EdgeRunners and us, the Jackals. She feeds us jobs like a mama bird, does monthly checkups like a family doc. Her skills? Top-tier. Fixed a tech glitch even Arasaka’s in-house ripper missed. Cured my migraines for good.

...Yeah. Little Boss is too good. Started as a joke, but the name stuck—she’s got that natural boss aura.

“David?”

“Yeah. Jug’s assistant kid. Technically her only employee. Tough little bastard—spine for days. Shame about his… uh, unfortunate taste in first loves. Like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”

“That explains nothing, Jack. David Martinez. Cyberpunk on Little Boss’s payroll, loaned to her other pet team—the EdgeRunners. And don’t bring up the love life shit. Kid’s suffered enough.”

“Fair point. Hah… damn shame, though. Head over heels for the worst possible person. Even our Van’s got better odds—and that’s saying something.”

“Keep talking, Jacky, and Rebecca’s gonna kick your ass.”

Sachi’s tone was ice. Jack raised his hands in surrender. Val just smirked, probably no stranger to messy romances.

…Wait till she hears the full story.

It’s a running joke among us, but darker than it sounds. David’s pining for Little Boss—a gender-nonconforming, trust-issues-riddled genius—while Rebecca, who actually likes him, holds back out of pity. A love triangle dumber than a malfunctioning BD. And since Little Boss is the eye of the storm, no one dares interfere.

“Fuckin’ exhausting to watch,” Jack muttered.

We all remembered what happened when Pilar tried to “help” by dosing David with horse-grade aphrodisiacs. Little Boss calmly beat his ass, tied him to a chair like a rabid monkey, and left him gagged in the clinic’s front window with a sign: Enjoy your solo ride, dumbass. Even Jack shuddered at the memory.

He flicked on the TV to change the mood.
N54’s Night After Night with Ziggy Q blared to life—infamous for brutal interviews and chaotic “surprises.” Tonight’s guest?

“Ladies and gents of Night City! Tonight’s guest is none other than the rising star of cyberpsychosis research, Japantown’s miracle ripperdoc—Dr. Jugra-Kagura!”

Every head in the room snapped to the screen. Even Van, who’d woken up at some point, looked like a proud parent.

There she was. Little Boss. Samurai jacket, overalls, zero fucks given.

“Pleasure,” she said, voice flat.

Ziggy Q—usually a sarcastic prick—was weirdly professional. Since when does that gonk do softball interviews?

“You’re our youngest guest ever! Any thoughts?”

“Honored to witness Ziggy Q’s legendary wit in person. Go easy on me.” Razor-blade smile.

“Ah, the burden of charm! Now, Dr. Jugra—you research cyberpsychosis and work as a ripperdoc. What’s the latest breakthrough?”

“Glad you asked. First—what is cyberpsychosis, to you?”

“Hmm! Layman’s terms? A mental disorder triggered by cyberware, with unknown mechanics. A true mystery.”

“The public definition,” she corrected. “In reality, most cases escalate from asymptomatic to violent via undetected triggers. That’s why Regina Jones of Trauma Team enlisted me—to study the technical angle, not just medical.”

Ziggy was nodding like a schoolkid. Felt off.

“With Regina’s help, we treated captured cyberpsychos. Observe.”

She pointed to a screen showing brainwave graphs.

“See the patterns? Nearly identical—except one outlier.” The screen flipped to a full-body scan of a young man. “No cyberware. Pure buddist. Yet his brainwaves matched the psychos’.”

The studio gasped. So did we.

“You defined cyberpsychosis as a cyberware disorder, Ziggy. But this?” She leaned in. “This suggests we’ve been wrong all along.”

“I don’t blame you for doubting. I did too.” Her voice was eerily calm. “But here’s the thing—we call cyberpsychosis an ‘unknown disease,’ yet its mechanics remain scientifically unproven.”

She pulled a lens-equipped scanner from her pocket, holding it up. No one needed her to spell it out—but she did. Lips curling like a detonator trigger.

“So tell me… why do ‘cyberpsycho scanners’ even exist? Especially ones manufactured by Biotechnica?”

She flipped the device. The camera zoomed in on the logo. Ziggy’s usual clownish grin was gone. He was recalculating.

“But I digress.” Her smile turned saccharine. “I came here to announce Delamain Medical’s grand opening in Japantown today. As medical supervisor, I’ve banned Biotechnica pharmaceuticals. Their ‘intentionally obscured’ lethal side effects? Unacceptable. Full disclosure pamphlets available—including unredacted drug manifests.”

A demon in a samurai jacket, dropping napalm with a smile.

“Thanks to them, my research is back to square one. Thoughts, Ziggy?”
“Hah… my—my condolences…”

If the East had demons, they’d call her oni.

The show cut to commercial—then abruptly switched to breaking news: NCPD raiding Biotechnica’s HQ.

“Biotechnica’s finished,” I muttered. “They’ll never set foot in Night City again.”

“Planned from the start.”
A voice behind us—hers. Little Boss leaned against the doorframe, Cheshire grin in place. “Ziggy played his part well.”

I choked on my cigarette. Mistake.

Her blade flashed. My smoke hit the floor in two perfect halves.

Right. She hated tobacco.