Rogue cursed as she watched the sudden burst of flames.
"F**k!"
She instinctively stepped back and raised a hand to shield her head.
In this era, almost any injury could be repaired if treatment arrived quickly enough. As long as the brain remained intact, survival was usually possible. Because of that, the only thing Rogue truly prioritized protecting was her head.
But right before her eyes, something impossible happened.
As the grenade's fireball expanded to roughly half a meter in diameter, Axel suddenly spread his hands.
His telekinetic force was sturdier than steel. In an instant, he completely enclosed the explosion, trapping the blast wave, shrapnel, and flames from every direction.
It looked as though he were squeezing a giant balloon.
The raging explosion shrank.
Then shrank again.
Until the entire fireball had been compressed into something no larger than a golf ball.
Axel raised his right hand.
Between his fingers floated the miniature explosion.
He turned toward the stunned Rogue.
"Well, Rogue? Was that entertaining?
I heard you've seen all kinds of things in your life. Ever seen that before?"
As he spoke, he casually opened his mouth and tossed the compressed explosion inside.
Then he swallowed.
At that moment, movement came from behind the bar.
The muscular bartender grabbed half a bottle of liquor and tossed it toward him.
Axel caught it effortlessly and began drinking.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Several mouthfuls later, the bottle was empty.
He let out a satisfied burp.
"Burp!"
Boom!
The explosion he had swallowed erupted from his mouth.
The blast wave and flames surged forward like a fiery breath attack, washing over several onlookers.
Two mercenaries yelped as their hair burned away, exposing portions of their cyberware.
"Holy s**t!"
"What the hell was that?"
"That's insane!"
"When did Night City get a monster like this?"
"How did Afterlife end up dealing with someone like him?"
"He doesn't even have implants. Is he some Biotechnica experiment?"
"What the hell? Is that a dragon?"
"I want that ability too. Think a titanium stomach would do it?"
The crowd immediately erupted into discussion.
Nobody maintained their coordinated firing stance anymore.
Meanwhile, Rogue stood frozen for a second before shaking her head with a laugh.
Her hair swayed as she stared at Axel.
"Experienced? Who told you that?
Because whoever it was definitely never saw what I just saw.
Trust me, I thought I'd witnessed every strange thing this city had to offer.
But you?
You're something else entirely."
Without warning, she raised her pistol and pointed it toward the ceiling.
"Alright, you bastards, show's over!
Don't forget where you are.
This is Afterlife!
If you don't want to reach your own afterlife tonight, then keep your mouths shut, keep your eyes under control, and get out.
Drinks are on me today.
Now leave.
I've got more important people to deal with."
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
She emptied the rest of the magazine into the ceiling.
Only after the weapon clicked empty did she lower it.
Touching her earpiece, she activated a call.
"Emerick, a lot of idiots are about to leave. Let them go.
Once the last one's out, lock the place down.
We're closed for the night."
The call ended.
Rogue walked over to Axel and draped his discarded jacket over his shoulders.
Then she sat beside him and looked toward the bartender, who was finally climbing back to her feet.
"Claire, it's not often I see you hiding behind the bar.
What happened? Did our future King of Afterlife scare you?"
Claire shrugged.
"I was scared, but not by the King of Afterlife.
I was scared by a shirtless idiot."
Rogue laughed.
"What can I get you?"
"A Johnny Silverhand.
After today, I need something strong enough to clear my head."
Rogue lit a cigarette and offered it to Axel.
"Smoke?"
"Sure."
Axel accepted it with a smile and took a drag.
Then he tapped the counter.
"If she's having a Johnny Silverhand, then I'll have a Rogue.
There should be a Rogue cocktail here, right?"
"Axel, only dead people get drinks named after them."
Rogue shot him an annoyed look.
"If you want something inspired by me, Claire can make you a Whiskey Sour."
"Forget it," Axel replied with a grin.
"Give me a David instead.
And honestly, who wants a drink that isn't even on the menu?"
Claire blinked.
"David?
Who's David?
A friend of yours?
What's his favorite drink? Tell me and I'll make it."
Axel chuckled.
"The drinks he liked were all based on what the people he cared about liked.
Nothing was ever truly his own preference.
Since there's no drink for him, forget it.
At least I haven't heard news of his death."
He tapped the counter thoughtfully before continuing.
"Just give me vodka on the rocks with lime juice and ginger ale.
Most importantly, add a little love."
Claire laughed.
"That actually sounds pretty good.
Your signature drink?"
Axel immediately shook his head.
"No.
That's a friend's drink."
"Then what about your own?"
Claire challenged him.
"You came into Afterlife shouting about becoming a legend.
Surely you've got something worth putting on the menu."
She tapped the menu booklet in her hand.
Axel thought for a moment before laughing.
"My drink?
Write this down.
Half a glass of gin.
Half a glass of rye whiskey.
I enjoy watching them fight each other inside the glass."
He laughed loudly before glancing toward the patrons leaving the bar.
Then he turned to Rogue.
"Why is everyone leaving?
I thought this place was yours.
Aren't you the Queen of Afterlife?"
Rogue burst out laughing.
"That's an ugly title."
After finishing her laugh, she explained.
"They call me the Queen of Afterlife, but all I actually own is Afterlife itself.
I don't own a single piece of Night City.
I don't run any gangs.
Mercenaries gather around me because major contracts tend to pass through my hands.
The kind with a lot of zeros attached.
The kind that build reputations.
As for why clients trust me, you've probably already figured that out.
I've lived a long time.
I've worked alongside plenty of legends.
That history buys trust.
People with money come looking for experience.
People chasing fortunes come looking for opportunities.
As for my own people?
How many could I possibly have?
I'd rather spend money on netrunners and information than on a few extra guns."
By then, Claire had finished preparing the drinks.
Rogue grabbed her Johnny Silverhand and threw an arm around Axel's shoulders.
Then she drained the cocktail in one go.
"Damn.
Silverhand's drink still hits hard."
She set down the glass.
"As for you, Axel, there's something you need to understand about Night City.
Corporations have invested fortunes here.
The NUSA has spent fortunes here too.
Countless soldiers have died over this city.
And despite all that, Night City remains technically independent.
Mayor Lucius may be useless in plenty of ways, but he managed to preserve the city's position after the Unification War.
No single power completely swallowed it.
That's terrible, because it guarantees more conflict.
But it's also why people like us still have room to breathe.
In places ruled entirely by one corporation or one government, resistance becomes nearly impossible."
As Rogue finished speaking, Axel's drink arrived.
He picked it up and took a sip.
Then he emptied the glass.
Setting it down, he looked at Rogue.
"So you still believe in resistance?"
"I believe in money."
Rogue snorted.
"Everything else is unreliable.
My point is that Night City is the perfect place to make money.
No single corporation controls it.
No single government controls it.
Chaos creates opportunity.
If you're willing to risk your life, there's always a bullet that can earn you food, alcohol, and whatever else you enjoy.
And there's always another bullet waiting to kill you.
The only question is whether you die anonymous or become a legend."
She stared directly into Axel's eyes.
After a long moment, she swallowed and slapped him on the shoulder.
"You said you want to become a legend.
You want to become the King of Afterlife.
Fine.
I'll help you.
Because my experience tells me never to stand in the way of something unstoppable.
But if I'm helping you become a legend, then you're going to listen when I give advice.
You're going to follow my arrangements.
No more acting entirely on your own.
Because if you keep doing what you did tonight, you'll become nothing more than another outrageous urban legend.
Not the kind people follow.
The kind people laugh about.
This city hates people who never fight back.
It doesn't matter if your body can survive a nuclear bomb.
Night City still won't respect that.
The legends this city remembers are the ones who detonate the bomb, or the ones who stop it from detonating.
Not the ones who stand there and let it hit them.
You let everyone attack you just to show off your power?
Don't be ridiculous.
What kind of nonsense philosophy is that?
Listen carefully, Axel.
If you truly want to become a legend, then remove everyone who stands in your way.
Don't even give them the chance to speak.
That's what a true King of Afterlife should do."