Completely lost in thought, I went downstairs. Lighting a cigarette, I tried to piece everything together to catch that one thread that would unravel the tangle of secrets and uncertainty. But either my skills had dulled, or this knot was full of other threads some false, some true.
Pull yourself together. Just remember you're Matthew Carrington, the best detective of your time. Not a single case has gone unsolved. Start small: there are bound to be enemies of Militech, or people within who are unhappy with their position. I just need to find those people and extract some information. First, I should look for info brokers. Sure, I could dig up data myself, but as I've come to understand if you're clueless in the Net, you're basically a Neanderthal trying to open a locked door. So for now, it's better to leave the digging to the pros. Maybe later, I'll master the Net and handle it myself.
And it all comes down to money. If I want to investigate this case, all my funds will be drained in pursuit of the truth. But if I want to live in comfort, to stop overreaching and start enjoying the pleasures of life again, I'll need top-tier operations to install fully human-like implants.
"So, what matters more to you?" I asked my reflection in the mirror.
Live in blissful ignorance, or be damned but with the truth revealed? The choice is obvious. You've always chased the answer… so who's going to stop you now?
I decided to spend at least part of the evening reminiscing, soaking in the illusion of life.
**************************
The alarm dragged me away from cooking. Glancing around, I saw the time on the display. Time to wake up. It's nice here, but far too lonely. I'm my only company.
Mode: Active.
Upon waking, I immediately checked my systems and got to my feet.
Today's main objective gather intel and find extra work. Hopefully, the private detective gig is still relevant. Back in the day, I used to get plenty of jobs from individuals and even without advertising, my name alone would draw clients in.
A quick scan of the Net led me to fixers people who hold a wealth of data. They're often the ones handing out gigs and hiring mercs. Yeah, in a normal city this would be unthinkable, but here, in a world ruled by armed gangs and lawlessness, it's a real profession though a deadly one. It's practically a cult mercs all trying to become Night City legends, dying young in the process of chasing that twisted dream.
But there's one snag no contact info. No clue how to reach them either. And then there's the little problem of the word "POLICE" stamped across my chest and marked on my arms. Definitely not great for striking up conversations. Most fixers and solos want nothing to do with lawmen, even if some do cooperate here and there.
So how do I fix the disguise issue? Gotta ditch the symbolism.
Message from Demian Todd:"Hey rookie, I transferred your cut."
Account balance: 0 → 2,500 eurodollars
Talk about perfect timing. Browsing through the goods catalog, I found stealth implants. There it is optical camouflage, a few different tiers available. Damn, the basic one's already 10K, but it lets you alter your appearance to blend in. Ideal for someone like me. There's also Version 2 uses optical illusions to completely hide your silhouette, leaving no trace (note: high-end optical implants can see through the disguise). Pricey, but damn, the features are worth it. I checked repaint mods 500 eurodollars. Well, I've got two days might as well take advantage.
First, I need to find someone I can squeeze for information. Time to walk the streets of the city.
As always, I'll have to start with the poorest districts, where crime thrives not that the gangs don't rule everywhere. But I can't just act in the middle of the street. The police database listed a few hotspots for criminal activity. In Heywood, there were several such places the main one being The Glen. One of the priciest neighborhoods, yet also a crime hub and ironically, the safest part of Heywood. Odd combination.
Walking across the whole city would be a pain, so I hopped on the metro and got to where I needed to be. Activating facial recognition, I began scanning for criminals. Everyone's got something on their record, but I was after specific gang members. Valentinos were becoming more and more common.
The Valentinos a gang mostly made up of Latin Americans, representing Chicano culture in Night City. One of the city's largest gangs, they dominate Glen, Vista del Rey, and Wellsprings in Heywood.
[image]
I stepped into a dark alley, scanning for a quiet corner where gang members might be lurking someone I could intimidate. Soon enough, I spotted a group slouched around piles of trash, deep in an aggressive argument. Once I was sure they were obvious criminals, I made my move. The metallic sound of my footsteps drew their attention.
"Pig, you're in the wrong neighborhood," one of them said, voice dripping with contempt. "Better walk away while you still can."They were all armed.
My leg holster snapped open my pistol leapt into my hand, and three quick pulls on the trigger sent bullets flying.
"Ah, fuck! You shot my leg, you bastard!""You son of a bitch, you're gonna die slow!"
Precise shots to their legs dropped them like dominoes. Before they could recover, I closed the distance and kicked their weapons out of reach. A solid punch to the heads of two of them put them straight to sleep. The third was groaning in pain I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
"You're going to answer my questions," I growled.My visor shifted to a deep crimson.
"Fuck you, freak. I'm Valentino. You're dead, cop trash," he hissed, trying to break free.
"I suggest you cooperate. Otherwise, your bones won't stay in one piece."He spat in my face."Not feeling talkative? Let me help you with that."
Grabbing his hand, I crushed his fingers with my cybernetic fist. He screamed, cursing me between howls of pain.
"I'll ask one more time. Where can I find a fixer?"
His expression shifted almost instantly. Despite the pain, he started thrashing again.
"Everyone you care about is gonna die," he sneered.
Another scream echoed through the alley as I tightened my grip.
"Answer me where's the fixer?"
"Go fuck yourself," he spat.I heard his bones snap. He went limp.
This… this was the part I hated about being a detective. I won't lie it wasn't the first time I crossed a moral line. Sometimes the stakes are just too high. Sometimes, a life just stops being worth anything.
Electricity crackled between my fingers as I turned to the next one. I hit him with a shock, hoping pain would unlock his tongue. Same procedure, same silence. Either they didn't know anything or, more likely the fixer was someone so respected they'd rather die than rat him out.
Time for a different approach. I revived the last one.
"Tell me where do you guys meet up?"
"Fuck off, you piece of shit," came the expected answer.
Another round of persuasion. Eventually, he cracked.At night, they gather at an abandoned site in The Glen underground fight rings, illegal, brutal. Most of the gang shows up to enjoy the blood and chaos. He gave me more than I expected.
Now all that was left was to cover my tracks. No one could know I questioned them.
Three gunshots echoed through the alley.
I had the location. Now it was time to change my look new paint job, new face.