Chapter 326 - 301 The People of Night City

The Vortex Gang commits robbery and theft, but in this fragmented network, where high-tech surveillance is rampant, how do they determine their targets?

Everyone knows companies are stingy, so is everyone oppressed by these companies just a bunch of sheep?

Of course not, the sheep have long turned into roasted lamb.

A homeless person at the factory gate replaces his blind eye, and he can record the factory’s working hours and shift changes for the Vortex Gang.

Workers who can’t repay their loans will find ways to make money, employees fired without cause will seek compensation on their own, and those injured at work without compensation will make these factories taste the real iron fist of Night City.

The Vortex Gang has countless clues, and as long as they want to act throughout the year, they barely have time to rest.

Rather, sometimes these local residents even hope the Vortex Gang will rob the companies fiercely.

"... You say you weren’t kidnapped?"

"No." A man with greasy hair shook his head, "Yesterday, I saw the team leader running away with a big bag of drugs, expensive stuff, and I saw where he put them."

"So you sold out your team leader to the Vortex Gang?"

The man spat, "Fuck him, I wish he were dead."

The crude language made Jefferson’s head throb.

He could see the fear and terror of being in Vortex Gang territory in the man’s eyes, as well as his malice toward the team leader.

"Why? Do you have a grudge?"

"That old bastard, two months ago he had us deliver a letter to the Vortex Gang, and when things went south, he docked our safety bonuses and pocketed the commission himself!

He took 800 Euros and only gave us 900! And then he said... he was so sorry?!"

The man was indignant, and it didn’t stop there, he went on about how the team leader set production targets and praised himself.

"What about young people needing to endure hardships so they can have it easy at his age... fuck his bullshit, he just sold his ass to that production manager!

Damn, because of his promises, I can’t even repay my loan, and my wife nags me every day for money to buy high-IQ milk powder—

Sigh, dude, I know other secrets about the factory, I just hope you give me a little something in return...

My kid needs milk, the doctor says he has a congenital heart disease, which only loans can cover.

But it’s okay, when he turns six, he’ll be able to start working, I’ve calculated the loan repayment period, and with him, his mom, and I, we’ll make it through..."

So this was a worker, a father, a husband, and a criminal, planning betrayal.

Jefferson was at a loss for words, and this was not an isolated case.

Are these people miserable?

Very miserable.

But after seeing these people, his head ached badly, even thinking: to a large extent, they brought it on themselves!

So-called evil "companies," if defined precisely, are not completely the perpetrators.

It’s known that besides those giant corporations, there are many small enterprises struggling to survive.

Without safety guarantees, increasing costs, and reduced factory profits, this further squeezes their "legal" survival space.

It’s a vicious cycle.

The Watson North District remains in a state of underemployment because companies are unwilling to settle there, leaving many people to wander around.

Expanding his mind, Jefferson’s clever brains quickly thought of numerous complex social reaction chains...

He even felt a bit puzzled: had he really never opened his eyes to see this city?

This was also Lille’s small doubt about this mayor.

According to Jefferson’s personal resume, he was also a native of Night City, even born in Haywood, where his parents ran a restaurant.

Born in 2031, when Night City’s sky was even light red, shrouded in nuclear bomb radiation clouds.

No matter how disconnected he was, he shouldn’t be completely unaware of these things.

Sometimes Jefferson gave Lille the feeling that he saw the mayor’s position as a switch to solve problems.

As if once he sat in the position, all problems would be solved under his control.

But how to sit in that position, the details and methods were terribly vague, reflected in this current commission.

Politically, he understood clearly, but in terms of details... he seemed like a different person.

Of course, Lille could guess the reason, he just wanted to confirm.

From Jefferson’s political thoughts, he could infer some things.

Jefferson held his head, beads of sweat forming on both sides, as if conducting a dangerous hack.

Suddenly, he took a step back! Startling everyone around.

"I need a break..."

He staggered out of the room, pulling a pneumatic injector from his coat pocket and pressing it to his neck.

Pssst...

The pharmaceutical entered his body, Jefferson sat on the table, looking visibly relieved.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks, "Sorry, maybe the recent work pressure is getting to me, but the Vortex Gang’s presence..."

"It shows." Lille closed the door and continued, "According to our previous contract, I can provide you with numerous leads to clean up these criminals.

Based on my preliminary estimate, the crime rate could decline by about 10 points, maybe even slightly below Night City’s overall crime rate.

But compared to your affluent areas, I guess this number is still not too low."

Meaning, wiping out the Vortex Gang and those associated with them would only reduce the crime rate by about 20 points.

What about the remaining crimes?

The answer was obvious, shattering Jefferson’s remaining wishful thinking.

Lille stepped forward, toward another room.

"Inside here are some residents who hope to buy functional prosthetics from the Vortex Gang, not entirely legal... and some want combat prosthetics."

"But those are certainly illegal." Lille shrugged, "Besides that, it’s all minor stuff, street fights, hit-and-runs, road rage shootings...

And some are minor crimes, insulting company representatives, incorrectly eating pizza...

You should be more familiar with these charges than I am.

But those people are beyond my control, so back to our contract—

By dealing with these people, I can help you reduce the crime rate by more than ten points, even following your previous idea, simply taking out the ringleaders.

What do you want me to do? Just so happens the NCPD chief is outside—am I right?"

The NCPD chief was indeed outside, indicated by the car Reaver had pointed out.

If Jefferson decided to continue gaining a campaign advantage this way, they could immediately start sending the criminals in.

"I..." Jefferson’s recently injected stimulant barely subdued the pain, but he knew this was an important issue to consider.

Crime harms society, but if criminals are part of society...

What was he ultimately upholding? People? Or society?

Night City’s so-called "average citizens" were not some pure white lotuses, nor a flock of helpless birds waiting for salvation.

They had their own lives, their own little tricks, timid but fierce, fearing gangs but colluding with them, bowing to companies while stabbing them in the back.

Confused values, blurred notions of good and evil, this was the true face of Night City.

Jefferson’s brain throbbed: he knew this, he thought he actually knew this.

But perhaps years of success had made him arrogant.

He wanted to invest in education, to teach people what was good, what was bad.

Wanted to create a powerful social institution, providing jobs for everyone, putting everything in order.

As if the so-called "lower class" were always the tragic victims, the stars of the tragedy, always waiting... for a savior.

But that was not the reality.

Bam!

Jefferson’s legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground. Lille, quick on his feet, pulled another stimulant from his suit and injected it—

Pssst—

"We haven’t finished the bill yet, Mr. Perares, or do you need to rest first?"

The stimulant entered his body again, Jefferson’s pain lessened but he felt invigorated enough to stand—

"No... let’s... finish the bill!"

"Great." Lille nodded, "Then let’s talk about your choice."

"..." Jefferson looked up, "I’d like to hear your thoughts."

"My thoughts?" Lille smiled, "These people are short-sighted, only seeing the most superficial world; greedy, they forget to think at the sight of a bit of benefit or hope of getting rich; timid, fearing those stronger than them.

When you defeat those they fear, refresh their worldview, and point to a bright future...

You’ll find they suddenly become so docile and cute, both foresighted and restrained, also very brave."

Jefferson lowered his head, chewing on these words, suddenly looking up, "You can’t be just a mercenary."

"I am a mercenary, nothing more, nothing less."