Chapter 222 - 204: The Sponsor Who Came Knocking

[Caller: Old Captain]

Old Captain: Hey—Daddy, you’re finally back! Want to come by the store?

Lille: What’s up?

Old Captain: Ah, nothing serious, just wanted the daddies to check out the new business we started.

Old Captain: Speaking of business, there actually is something... Daddy, did you guys steal a vehicle from the Military Technology Forces in Evil Land?

Lille: Just a little scrimmage.

Old Captain: Daddy, take a look, is this your vehicle? [Image]

The image quality was poor, only showing a car flying over the heads of Military Technology soldiers in the moonlight, with a brawny man preparing to jump from atop it.

Lille had seen this photo at Mercedes too: Military Technology had spread some fake news internally, creating true and false cover for themselves.

It was mainly to mask their defeat, especially since the wall explosion was too big an incident to hide, and also to mislead other companies and organizations into a false sense of effectiveness.

Most of the circulated photos were fake and edited, but some were quite authentic; this one was real, albeit blurry.

However, one thing was clear from any angle: this vehicle was definitely not a Mackinaw, not even a Thunder Power car.

Lille: It’s ours, what’s the issue?

Old Captain: Here’s the thing, Thunder Company saw this image, and they expressed they’d like you to continue using their cars.

Lille: Endorsement fee?

Old Captain: That definitely can’t be omitted, what kind of men are the daddies? How can they work for free?

Old Captain: Actually, Thunder Company is freaking out. Because of this, the stock exchange even introduced a Mackinaw-themed stock, specifically designed to fleece naive investors; always cut when it falls—but they want to bleed it a bit more.

Old Captain: Of course, if Daddy finds them annoying, we can drop this.

Lille: Let’s meet in person, give me a location.

Old Captain: You got it!

Didn’t expect to land a windfall right upon entering the city, lucky break.

This phone call also meant that Mackinaw was now within reach of cell signals near Night City.

The bustling city once again filled the trio’s entire field of view, free from Military Technology’s jurisdiction, highways clear and unobstructed.

V leaned out the window, the wind blowing in her face was stinkier than in Evil Land, mingled with the sharp scent of chemical waste—

But this, this was the hallmark of Night City, the scent of freedom!

"Wuhu! Night City!"

Suddenly, V noticed a gang-decorated sports car pulling up, its occupants staring intently at the Mackinaw...

V immediately showed an irritated expression, "Just entered the city and already something’s up? Driving a sports car makes you special..."

Just as she was about to draw her gun, the people in the car let out exclamations of admiration—

"Man, bro, good taste, huh? Which shop modded this Mackinaw to battle-worn like that? Looks real, man, those bullet holes... did you hit it with a sniper rifle?"

V’s hand paused on her gun.

The guys in the sports car seemed like they were from the Six Street Gang, looking at the Mackinaw not as just some truck, but like it was a limited edition sports car.

As if V was the one riding in a sports car, and they were driving around in a beat-up van...

This utterly confused V.

"Stop bullshitting, get your guns ready!"

The person in the passenger seat slapped the driver, and their car quickly chased after a commercial sedan ahead; just another day in Night City, some gang rookie trying to hit on corporate dogs.

The passenger also looked enviously at the Mackinaw’s battle-worn shell.

The gunfight broke out quickly, the Mackinaw revved up and sped past the conflict zone, leaving explosions and stray bullets behind.

Bang!

Two more vehicles exploded behind them, the firelight reflecting on the glass, causing some kind of explosion in V’s mind too...

"... Are we not driving a Mackinaw now?"

Jack nodded, "Genuine classic, see this car insignia."

"Then... what they just said, why did it sound sorta confusing to me?"

Mackinaw flaunted through the city, people on the streets showing looks of admiration, V felt like she was seeing her past self in their eyes—

In the past, she too would look at awesome sports cars with that expression, though of course, she hid it better than they did.

Could it be the value of Mackinaw... had actually increased?

V rubbed her ears, again hearing an advertisement from the streets:

"All-Food Burger King, gripping the ’big fellow’ burger, a heritage from fifty years ago’s exclusive traditional brand..."

V rubbed her eyes, seeing the billboard introducing some kind...

Burger.

Burger!

A billboard featured a man in a suit with a terror-stricken face being stabbed between two pieces of bread by a hot dog.

V, wide-eyed, blurted out, "Damn... what is all this?"

Lille clicked his tongue in amazement: "To think Whole Foods dug this thing up from their patent library, pretty freaking impressive."

Jack nodded silently to himself: "Are we on TV now? I gotta go home and tell my mom I was on TV... never mind, better not say anything.

Where are we heading now?"

"Old Captain’s custom shop."

Sponsorship for a free ride, don’t say no when it’s free, Lille still owes over a million...

The car stopped at the intersection, ahead were cars packed tightly; oddly enough, today the traffic seemed a bit too congested.

Stop and go, stop and go, the trio subsequently saw many "familiar" advertisements.

Stuff like "Drive a Mackinaw, enjoy a legendary life"; "Eat at Burger King, taste the flavorful world" kept popping up.

As they passed through Saint Domingo, some makeshift custom car shops had put up signs: Enter here for battle-damaged Mackinaw styling, Burger King fast food store 100 meters ahead, turn left.

The key was that these shops were actually doing good business.

On the street, several thugs appeared to be waiting for car mods; one Mohawk guy, with his arms crossed, boasted to the others:

"Hey, coming to me was the right choice, I know what that Mackinaw looked like, matte black, and later modified to red with black stripes.

I was there both times!"

"Why was it matte black to start with?"

"Are you stupid? The guy first used it for a terror attack downtown, could he not repaint it before driving it out again, unless he wanted to die?"

"Then why didn’t they just change cars?"

"Nonsense, the car’s quality is good! You have no idea, that night I watched it drive right past my building, clear as day!

Stop the BS, black edition 500 euros, red with black stripes 1000 euros, battle damage adds 500 euros."

"Damn, your paint made of gold, or the gun made of gold?"

"Heh, you see anyone else with firsthand witness these days? Nearly everyone who was there that night is dead now, I saw it with my own eyes, this, my friend, is called intellectual property and copyright fees!

You think it’s expensive? I think it’s expensive too!"

A customer looking for a car mod sized up the kid then, as they raised their head to think, they happened to see the trio’s Mackinaw.

Suddenly pointing at the car he asked, "Hold on, that car looks just like the real thing, red and black stripes, bullet holes..."

The hustling youngster scoffed, "How could that be? That... that car is fake! A copy!"

"Then how come yours is real?"

"Hah, I run a custom paint shop, you think I’d sell you a fake paint job?"

"I’m asking you, is this paint job guaranteed authentic?"

The youngster was suddenly dissatisfied, alarm bells ringing in his mind: "You’re just picking a fight, aren’t you? You modding or not?"

"If this model is authentic, I’d definitely mod it! But what if it’s not real?"

"If it ain’t real, I’ll tie myself down and let the cars run me over, alright?"

Just then, the traffic light finally turned green, and the Mackinaw slowly moved toward the street block, followed respectfully by a white Mizutani MZ2 sports car that had suddenly turned out from a street.

The Mizutani, you see, was not uncommon in the core city area, but it was rare in Saint Domingo—

Especially this black and white painted car, as Saint Domingo had recently swallowed up Faraday, a well-known middleman, and Old Captain just happened to own such a car.

Everyone knew Old Captain had deep ties with those three big shots...

Suspicious, unwelcoming glances turned toward the youngster who had been boasting just a moment ago; the latter panicked: "It’s a show! Definitely a damn show!"

As soon as he finished, Mizutani rolled down the window, and Old Captain Muammar respectfully leaned out, saluted the Mackinaw, then drove ahead to lead the way.

Then the air became quiet.

The youngster, pale-faced, was just about to run off when the thugs grabbed him and pinned him to the ground, calling over their mates to drive the car out—

A pig-like scream echoed through the street, quieting down with the sound of the engines.

...

Jack shivered: "Does someone scream like that every day in Saint Domingo? It’s damn creepy."

Lille and V nodded in agreement.

In broad daylight, no less.

Why all the screaming.