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Chapter 277 c
🕑 Added 2025-06-09 15:05:03 +0000 UTCChapter 277 c
“You’re making excuses for a psycho? Maybe he thought Mayor Rhyne was talking to him through the TV, feeding him hope, only for it all to collapse in the end. I’ll tell you what I think—Horvath believed the whole world was after him. Lucius Rhyne wanted to ruin him, then have him taken away.”
It sounded like the early stages of cyberpsychosis. Even if Horvath hadn’t been shot by River at City Hall, he probably would’ve snapped somewhere else sooner or later.
Leo changed the subject. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you usually pay Horvath?”
Christine’s tone turned sharp. “Why do you care?”
River picked up the thread. “Because when Horvath died, he was loaded head-to-toe with military-grade cyberware—enough to buy up this whole market.”
Christine spread her arms wide. “Look at my setup, then look at me. You think I’ve got that kind of money? I’d be modding myself if I did.”
River continued, “Then where’d he get the cash? Do you know?”
Christine let out a sigh. “If I knew how to make money like that, I wouldn’t be blowing it on military gear. I’d buy a damn AV and fly as far as it’d take me. One day he came to work already equipped with all that chrome. Had to be a side gig. I beat it out of him—asked where it came from. He said he finally met someone who’d look out for him. After that... I saw the news of his death on TV.”
River stared at her face. “You don’t look too upset.”
Christine didn’t flinch. “Why should I be? He wasn’t my son. I wasn’t his mother. That was his choice. I told him long ago—nothing ever falls from the sky in Night City except traps.”
She paused, voice rising as if to vent all her pent-up frustration. The sudden volume drew stares from nearby stalls.
“He didn’t listen. Thought I was standing in the way of his payday. He insisted on diving into that pit. What the hell could I do? I can barely take care of myself. How’m I supposed to save someone else?”
After all that, Christine had nothing left to say.
Leo, meanwhile, was deep in thought. Whoever that “benefactor” was, they’d obviously been the one who set Horvath up to die at City Hall. But what Leo couldn’t figure out was—why load Horvath with so much high-end combat cyberware, yet not give him a Sandevistan or subdermal armor?
Even the cheapest entry-level versions would’ve helped. Sure, maybe Horvath’s body couldn’t handle the extreme side effects of a Sandevistan—but he was just a pawn. The people using him couldn’t possibly have had a soft spot.
If he’d had a Sandevistan, he might’ve blitzed through the guards and taken Rhyne out directly. If he’d had subdermal armor, River’s three shots likely wouldn’t have killed him—and Horvath might’ve even shot back.
Rich people weren’t stupid. If Leo noticed the flaw, so would Horvath's supposed benefactor.
So that left one possibility: they never intended for Horvath to kill Mayor Rhyne. The whole City Hall attack was just a smokescreen, meant to cover up something else entirely.
River spoke again. “Benefactor? Did he ever tell you who they were? Name? Man or woman?”
“I asked,” Christine said, “but he wouldn’t say. Just kept rambling about how he was gonna be rich after this gig—money beyond imagination.” Her face softened with a trace of nostalgia. “He even said he’d give me a cut as thanks for looking after him.”
“When did he start acting weird? I mean—he must’ve met the benefactor before getting all that chrome. When did he start thinking everyone was out to get him?”
Christine shrugged. “That guy was never normal. But if you’re comparing him before and after prison... Well, he was always an asshole—just in different ways.”
“That’s it? He never mentioned anything else? No connection to Rhyne? Jobs he might’ve done for him? Deliveries?”
She shook her head. “No idea. Horvath worked for more than just me. Some were ordinary folks, some... not so much. Who knows what he was caught up in?”
Clearly tired of the questions, Christine leaned forward onto the counter. “Listen, detectives. He worked for me, I paid him. That’s it. I wasn’t his girlfriend, or his mom. I’ve told you all I know.”
“If you want more, you’ll have to ask around somewhere else. You’re blocking my business, and people won’t come near while you’re here.”
River didn’t take offense. He’d come from the bottom and knew exactly how stall owners felt when their trade got disrupted. Besides, he figured Christine had already told them everything useful.
“Alright, we’ll go.”
River shot Leo a look, and the two walked away from the stall. They didn’t speak again until they’d left the cherry blossom market and walked about ten meters.
“The one who funded Horvath was watching him from the start. Gave him all that cyberware, but never expected him to kill Rhyne. It was all misdirection.”
Leo nodded. “That much is obvious. The real question is—who?”
They’d left without much in the way of solid leads, but River didn’t seem too frustrated.
“Sometimes, to understand something, you need to trace the whole chain.”
He even felt like explaining with an example.
“Say someone says they’ve got a headache. Nothing special, right? Just a detail. But then the guy walks straight into traffic. That’s when a neighbor remembers—someone was doing HVAC work in the building.”
“So was it an accident? A coincidence? Or was something toxic pumped through the vents, aimed to kill?”
Leo rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache. “And what was it in the end? Did you find out?
“Nope. Made it up. Proves my point though. Ninety percent of police work is asking questions.”
River’s answer made Leo want to punch him.
Sure, asking questions. And reality really wasn’t that different—detective work mostly meant running around and talking to people.
If real life were like the movies—with huge cases and shootouts every day—sure, it’d be thrilling. But it’d also be hell for the cops.
“And the other ten percent?”
“Paperwork.”
They talked as they walked under red lanterns hanging above the market. The Cherry Blossom Market sold not just recycled electronics, but food and drink too—noodle stalls, barbecue vendors, bubble tea shops—everything.
The smell of cooking filled the air. River’s eyes were locked on the sizzling meat grilling over an open flame nearby. He didn’t look away for a long time.
“I’m starving. Let’s grab something to eat before heading to Bonita Street. That place isn’t going anywhere.”
“Sounds good,” Leo replied, stomach growling in agreement.
Back when he was still a corporate wage slave stuck in a 9 to 5 job, he didn’t notice it much—but ever since arriving in this world, his stomach had become far more responsive. He ate more, digested faster, and by midday, he was hungry again.
Since River had suggested it, they might as well eat first.
But Leo noticed something odd—River wasn’t moving. He was still staring.
Leo followed his gaze. “What? You planning to eat here?”
“No.” River scratched his head. “I don’t come to Japantown much. You know this place better?”
“That’s unfortunate. I don’t either.”
In the end, they just picked a busy stall and ordered two bowls of ramen.
As they waited, silence settled between them, even the air felt still. Eventually, River broke the tension.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how long you been in this line of work?”
“What, doing a background check now?” Leo grinned. “You’ll find my birthplace listed as ‘somewhere between a coyote den and a junkyard in the Badlands.’”
“Just making conversation. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Just messing with you. Let me think... about six months, give or take.”
“Half a year? Not even one year?” River looked shocked. “You don’t seem like a rookie.”
“Maybe I’ve got talent for it. Born to do this kind of work.” Leo smirked. “How about you, Detective River? Your pay good?”
“Just call me River. You calling me ‘detective’ sounds weird... As for the pay, it’s enough to get by. Not great, but I’m not in it just for the money.”
Leo gave a quiet “Oh” and nodded.
River looked at him. “You don’t want to know why I do it?”
“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen. If not, I won’t pry. People hate that.”
“You’re alright, Leo. Maybe we’ll work together again sometime.”
“Let’s finish this job first.”
Once their ramen was served and steam clouded the air around them, they stopped talking and started eating.
After the meal, Leo reached for his wallet, but River stopped him.
“My treat.”
Leo didn’t argue. Once River paid, the two headed back toward where he’d parked.
But when they exited Cherry Blossom Market, they spotted two uninvited guests standing in front of River’s pickup—members of the Tyger Claws, covered in glowing tattoos.
Tattoo tech had come a long way. These things glowed in the dark like neon signs.
Leo didn’t know what the Tyger Claws were thinking—he just thought it looked ridiculous.
Most of them wore vests or sleeveless tops, exposing their arms, chest, and sides—covered in luminous ink that made them perfect targets in low light.
They might as well have shouted, “Everyone, look at me! I have an announcement!”
As Leo and River approached, the two gangers kept chatting without a care.
“Hey, what do you think that guy looks like?”
“A pig hauler.”
“Nope—it's a shit-covered pig hauler.”
River sighed, clearly annoyed. “Great. Leo, let me handle this.”
Leo was a bit confused.
Night City was a crime-ridden city, sure, but compared to Gotham, it was still tame.
The NCPD might bow to corps, but they weren’t supposed to take crap from street thugs—especially not a couple of low-level punks.
But... why did River look like he owed them money?
