Leo spotted large bloodstains on the tabletop nearby, along with blood-soaked bandages scattered across the floor.
"What's that smell?" Rebecca pinched her nose, grimacing.
Lucy frowned. Leo took a quick sniff. "It's blood… They never cleaned up, so it turned foul."
Rebecca glanced around nervously, still holding her nose. "All this blood, and nobody bothered to clean it? Did Juliet end up getting killed by her own sister? But there's no corpse. Would a cyberpsycho even know how to hide a body?"
A laptop rested on a small desk in the bedroom—apparently Rose's, not Juliet's. It contained only two messages. One was the email from Rose to Juliet they had already seen downstairs. The other was a reminder from something called the "Quickblade Clinic." Judging by it, Rose had realized she had a problem and scheduled an appointment. However, the reminder messages spanned from August 9 of last year to January 8 of this year.
(it was named Redwood Psychiatric Hospital before)
Rose had never gone.
Leo exhaled slowly. "She never visited Quickblade Clinic. I can't decide if that was lucky for Rose or unfortunate for Juliet."
Lucy and Rebecca both looked at him. "How so?"
"Do you know who runs that clinic? Maelstrom. Much like other Night City gangs, Maelstrom is splintered into multiple factions. The group operating out of Quickblade Clinic used to be Scavs. I'm not trying to defend Maelstrom—nothing could make them look good—but you can imagine how ruthless ex-Scavs can be."
He paused, then went on, "There's a rumor in Watson that if you go to Quickblade Clinic, they'll rip out your implants and organs to sell on the black market…while you're still awake."
Lucy and Rebecca both shivered. "And you're sure it's not just a rumor?"
"I'm clarifying that it isn't a rumor," Leo said flatly.
Rebecca swallowed. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I took that clinic down with Jackie and V—just the three of us," Leo replied. At that time, he needed the extra eddies (and some intangible benefits), and requests to wipe out Scav strongholds came in constantly. He and his team had also purged another Scavenger den disguised as a hospital near a megabuilding in Santo Domingo.
The last room on the second floor was a bathroom, its shelves lined with bottles and canisters of sedatives for treating cyberpsychosis. Various types, from different manufacturers. Such medication required a doctor's prescription at a legitimate hospital—something far beyond most people's means in Night City. On the black market, it was pricey, too. Clearly, Juliet had sunk a fortune into helping Rose.
Having checked everything upstairs, the trio headed for the basement. They passed behind the living room couch, where the door leading down was set into a wall of peeling plaster, cracked tile, and exposed pipes.
A red LED on a small device above the basement door blinked ominously—the anti-surveillance scrambler. Without waiting for Leo to say anything, Lucy flicked a length of golden monowire from her wrist and sliced the device into useless scrap.
Once the door opened, all three filed in. A dingy light revealed a lonely surgery chair and swathes of dried blood. Anyone else might have assumed they'd stumbled into a Scav den.
A figure lay on the floor near the chair, a knife buried in her back. The scanner ID'd her as Juliet. She had bled heavily, soaking her clothes and leaving a large dark stain.
Lucy started forward to check, but Leo placed a hand on her shoulder, silently motioning for her to look deeper into the gloom. A flickering silhouette slunk into view, moving like a wraith. It was Rose, prowling the shadows as if possessed.
Rebecca aimed both pistols at Rose, ready to fire if Leo gave the word. Instead, he pressed her guns down and looked at Lucy. "Force her eyes to reboot. After that, I'll handle it."
Lucy nodded. A few seconds later, sparks burst from Rose's cyberoptics. She let out a raw scream, clutching her face in pain, oblivious to Leo's rapid approach. His reinforced fist connected with her jaw, sending her flying like a ragdoll. She crashed against a storage rack, bringing its contents down with a noisy clatter, half-burying her in debris.
Rose went still beneath the scattered junk. Leo glanced back at Juliet—still not moving—when Rose suddenly twitched. She burst free, skimming along the ground with shocking speed, right hand hidden behind her back.
"Die!" Rose shrieked, eyes wild, lunging with a blade aimed for Leo's chest. Yet her weapon struck nothing but air. She froze, finally registering the hiss of a blade returning to its sheath.
"That was…too fast…" she gasped, voice weak. Her body hit the floor like deadweight, life snuffed out in a matter of seconds.
Once certain Rose was gone, Leo moved to Juliet, crouching down. Lucy and Rebecca hurried over. "Is she alive?"
"She's hanging by a thread, but yes." Leo produced a pneumatic injector and administered two doses in quick succession. "We should get her upstairs. The air down here won't do her any favors."
He scooped Juliet into his arms and headed for the living room, calling El Capitán on the way.
"Leo? So, you found Juliet—did she give you the data?"
"El Capitán, send someone ASAP to pick her up. I just gave her a couple of shots, so if you're quick, there's still a chance she'll pull through." Leo quickly summarized what they'd found in Juliet's home.
"Damn it!" El Capitán sounded frustrated. "So that's why she went off the grid for two weeks—taking care of her sister. She never mentioned that. Thanks for everything, Leo. I'll get people over there immediately."
Back in the living room, Leo laid Juliet on the sofa. He removed the knife in her back, then flushed the wound, stanched the bleeding, and bandaged it. He had done all he could; now they just had to wait for El Capitán's crew.
…
While they waited, Leo didn't just sit around. He opened the recording module in his tactical visor and saved a video clip of the scene, passing it to Rebecca. "Show this to the rest of our crew—especially Maine."
Rose had outfitted both arms with Gorilla Arms, replaced her spine with a basic Sandevistan, and installed special cyberlegs designed for power-jumping. She had clearly worked in corporate security or a similarly high-combat role. Leo hoped that, once Maine saw these clips, he would rethink piling too many upgrades onto his body before adapting to what he already had. Speeding from one implant to another only drained a person's physical and mental reserves faster.
Leo understood mercenaries all too well: they took any job they could to scrape by, drank themselves senseless between gigs, and prayed they'd see another sunrise. Many sank into the same self-deception, believing "I'm different, I'll be fine," even as the red flags stacked up.
Then that one last straw would break them—exactly the way it had broken Rose—by the time they realized they were never special in the first place. And by then, it was too late.