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Chapter 280 c
🕑 Added 2025-06-11 15:01:53 +0000 UTCChapter 280 c
But he would never have that chance again.
“Go check the computer. Maybe there’s something useful in there.”
River nodded and walked over to the terminal in the office, swiping his hands across the interface. After a few seconds, he called out urgently, “Leo, come take a look at this.”
Leo holstered his tech revolver and stepped over. River had pulled up a file.
Inside were emails exchanged between the club’s owner, a man named Francis Delgado, and Deputy Mayor Weldon Holt. From the contents, it was clear not only that Holt was acting as Francis’s protector, but also that on the night of the assassination attempt by Horvath at City Hall, Lucius Rhyne had come to this club—and died here, not at home.
River pointed at the screen. “There’s also this footage.”
He clicked on a video file. The screen lit up, showing the entrance to a private suite. Someone holding a phone stepped slowly into frame from outside.
^^
“Yeah, stiff as a board. I’d say he’s been dead for at least an hour. No Trauma Team card on him either, definitely left it off on purpose.”
“I mean, you don’t want Trauma busting in while you’re getting off in a place like this—word gets out, and everyone hears about it.”
“Probably his heart, too much excitement.”
“Alright, we do it like this. The coroner finds him at home, I tell him what to write. ‘He passed peacefully in his sleep.’”
Someone dragged a fat corpse out of the room. The lighting wasn’t great, but both Leo and River immediately recognized the body—not just because he’d appeared on TV frequently, but also because his face had been plastered across billboards all over Night City.
The body, being dragged like a slaughtered pig, belonged to Lucius Rhyne. And the man on the phone, the one orchestrating the cover-up, was none other than River’s own partner—Detective Han.
“My guys will get him out. No one’s gonna see anything. Absolutely.”
“Alright. I’ll get back to you later.”
^^
The footage ended.
After watching, River sat motionless in front of the screen like his soul had left his body. It wasn’t until a long while later that he finally stirred.
“The former mayor dies in a club doing this kind of thing, and the deputy mayor cleans it up by bringing in your partner, bribes the coroner to falsify the report, and I’m not even surprised.”
River said nothing. Now he understood why his chief didn’t want him digging into this. Even his own partner had tried everything to dissuade him. Turned out the higher-ups in the NCPD all knew. The corpse had been handled by his own partner, and he was the only one kept in the dark.
A surge of anger welled up in River.
“Weldon Holt… what the hell does he take the NCPD for? Just another tool to clean up his scandals?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at all if that’s exactly what he thinks.”
Holt had never shied away from the spotlight, and every time he showed up, it was just to suck up to the corps. If Jefferson Peralez was an idealist genuinely trying to change something, then Weldon Holt was a pure opportunist, treating Night City like his personal piggy bank.
River headed for the exit like he couldn’t stand to stay another second. “Let’s go, Leo.”
“No. Give me a minute. There’s somewhere I need to check before we leave.”
Leo stepped out of the office. Curious, River followed him. Leo walked over to the private room seen in the footage, the one where Lucius Rhyne had been dragged out like a dead animal. He looked around to confirm it was the same suite, then entered.
Nothing had been cleaned. The room was still in its original state. A braindance wreath lay abandoned on a pink couch—likely the very same wreath that killed Lucius Rhyne.
People didn’t come to a place like this for standard BDs. This was a black market braindance.
Black braindances were illegal sensory recordings of criminal activity—often depicting extreme violence, psychotic behavior, or both. They were edited with virtually no standards, preserving the raw, dark impulses of either perpetrators or victims. Experiencing them was extremely dangerous due to the minimal barrier between the original recorder and the user, making psychological trauma highly likely.
Even so, black braindances had a strong following among the curious and the reckless, becoming a major revenue stream for criminal syndicates. From the moment BD tech was opened to public use, XBDs had been thriving on the black market.
Rare fetishes, torture, sadomasochistic fantasies, even death—these were the most common themes. The recordings were usually done in secret, often without consent, and rarely edited. Rewatching them could cause nausea, seizures, and in extreme cases, death. But demand remained sky-high, pushing creators to continuously test new limits despite public outrage and condemnation.
Han, River’s partner, thought Rhyne had died from overstimulation. Leo, however, had a different theory. He didn’t think the XBD itself had killed Rhyne—or at least not alone.
He suspected something more was at play. And soon, he’d know for sure.
Leo picked up the wreath from the couch, switched on the room lights, and began a careful inspection. From the outside, it looked no different from any other wreath. The XBD chip was properly slotted.
River, who had followed him inside, watched Leo and hesitated. “Leo, you’re not seriously thinking of putting that thing on your head, are you?”
Leo rolled his eyes. “You think I’m new to this? No way.”
One of Night City’s golden rules—if you find an unclaimed wreath lying around in a club or on the street, leave it. Don’t touch it, and definitely don’t wear it. You never know what’s in one of those things.
Leo certainly wasn’t about to slap on the wreath that killed Rhyne. That would be suicidal. Besides V, Leo couldn’t think of anyone dumb....cough.. brave enough to do something like that.
Instead, he detached the tactical visor he always wore during ops, pulled out a data cable, and plugged it into the wreath before pressing the activation button.
River stood behind him, arms crossed, unsure what Leo was doing but deciding to wait and see.
His answer came quickly. A sharp pop, followed by a shower of sparks from the cable connection. Thin wisps of smoke curled into the air. The room instantly filled with the acrid scent of burning circuitry.
River’s eyes went wide. “Shit. What the hell?”
Leo withdrew the cable calmly. “Lucius Rhyne didn’t die from a heart attack. Someone tampered with the XBD. He was killed by a data virus.”
“A virus? Someone deliberately set him up?”
“Obviously,” Leo said, his mind clearer than ever. “Whoever funded Horvath never expected him to succeed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been loaded up with combat cyberware but left without a Sandevistan or subdermal armor.”
A Sandevistan would’ve slowed time. Subdermal armor would’ve made him bullet-resistant, like a tank. Horvath’s attempt was just a distraction.
The real kill switch was the wreath itself.
If Rhyne had died during the City Hall attack, all eyes would’ve been on Horvath and the mastermind behind him. But if he died from a booby-trapped wreath in a club? Then it was just an unfortunate accident.
And sure, someone might ask: wouldn’t an autopsy reveal the virus?
Good question—but in reality, no one would ever check. First, if a mayor died in a club, the scandal would be monumental. It would disgrace both him and his family. Second, XBDs were known to be risky. If he died while using one, everyone’s first assumption would be that it was too intense. Cleanup would be the top priority. No one would want anyone to know the mayor died in his own city’s sex club.
In a crisis, people panic. They shift blame and get themselves out of trouble first. Who’d think to check the XBD?
River had a suspicion, but he wasn’t sure, so he asked Leo, “Then who do you think wanted Rhyne dead?”
Leo shook his head. “Hard to say. Too few clues. Whoever did this is buried deep.”
River hesitated, then voiced his theory. “What if it was Holt?”
“Killed his boss to get promoted? But you saw the footage—he called in NCPD to clean up Rhyne’s body. If he were in on it from the start, wouldn’t he just use his own people?”
As deputy mayor, Holt had his own crew. Anyone in his position would. Climbing the ranks without your own team was suicide.
River pushed back, “Maybe that’s exactly why he used the NCPD. To distance himself. And if cops get involved, they get dirty too—no one can talk later.”
It was a fair point. They didn’t have enough evidence to know who was right.
Leo spread his hands. “Can’t say for sure. Really can’t, River. This whole thing runs deep. Even if Holt’s involved, he’s probably just a pawn. Someone else is pulling the strings.”
River let out a long sigh. At first, he had only suspected that Rhyne’s death wasn’t as clean as it seemed. That was why upper management wanted the Horvath case closed fast.
But after digging deeper, he found layers of mystery and more powerful players involved than he had ever imagined.
Even with the evidence they had gathered, Leo and River were still only scratching the surface. And that left River with a profound sense of powerlessness and defeat.
