Chapter 393 - 365: Pilots and Drivers

The mercenary killed really had quite a reputation.

On that day, most of the mercenaries who were killed left behind wreckage from which clues identifying their identities could be obtained, allowing Blais to use the online surveillance database for verification.

In their respective cities, they were essentially at the top, the type someone would seek out through an intermediary when they wanted the best, whom the intermediaries would recommend first.

However, looking at the timing, they were either new to fame or had not undertaken any major jobs for a long time.

At this stage, they looked down on small jobs, confidently taking on bigger ones, even fantasizing about scoring a job that would set them up for life.

This called for them to use more violent methods to accomplish more challenging tasks.

In smaller places, the money was little and the news did not flow, with major upheavals usually being actual large-scale armed conflicts—the worst choice, dangerous and poorly paid, with no one to even collect the bodies if you died.

But in big cities, corporations had strong control, so strong that on the surface, everyone seemed to live in peace and happiness.

No gun battles, no violent bloody incidents, just various types of silent deaths, from the top echelons to the bottom.

More restrictions meant more intermediaries, but it also meant that the mercenaries doing the actual work were not that important yet—or rather, not yet that important.

They were exactly the kind of irreplaceable legends who needed to prove themselves, capable of changing the course of corporate power games, the world-class mercenaries.

Opportunities like that were not abundant.

In places like Night City, economically advanced yet incredibly backward in terms of security, there weren’t many like it in the world, and recently, Night City had seen a spate of accidents.

If there was one place that gathered a lot of such opportunities, it could only be Night City now.

Blais had only updated the status and information of those who had died in the database, without further comment.

Finally, he turned his attention to the last three survivors—first to the couple that David had caught.

"Lucas ’Turbo’ Weber, Anna ’Cannon’ Ball, this couple are celebrities in unrestricted high-speed racing, champions for two consecutive terms.

The database showed they hadn’t been active for almost a year now, turns out they came to Night City.

The lady was rumored to have been an ACPA pilot before, and the guy is... a fighter pilot?"

Among them, Anna was more solidly built, while Lucas was somewhat more normal in stature, though still more robust than the average person.

Typically, injuries like theirs would lead to instant death from organ damage, major bleeding, among other causes, only a few with a high degree of prosthetic integration like the Vortex Gang before them could survive.

But the Vortex Gang’s high level of prosthetic integration came with chronic pain for life, a form far removed from normal humans, and an abnormal mental state.

Both mercenaries had a high level of prosthetic integration yet still retained a considerable humanoid form, truly high-end.

This made the online monitoring bureau more credible: they really could be the operators of those extreme machines, and the high-end prosthetic modifications were originally designed by the corporation to allow them to handle high-intensity combat.

Blais leaned down next to Lucas, the two locking eyes—Lucas was left with only one eye.

Due to the locking of his prosthetics, Lucas couldn’t speak, he could only stare back, but soon...

Click!

Suddenly, Blais reached out and pulled a cable from Lucas’s shattered prosthetic!

Pulling the cable, Blais explained, "He really was a fighter pilot, the European Space Agency does special modifications on fighter pilots to let them control the craft with their thoughts.

Expensive system, each air force has to serve them for 40 years for this system, he’s a deserter, but the prosthetic is still functional.

These prosthetics are very high-quality, he himself doesn’t know how much information this thing can expose."

Hearing Blais pinpoint his past service record and precisely pull out a cable, Lucas’s gaze turned desperate—

He did not want to be dragged back to service!

"Hold on," Lille grabbed Blais’s hand, "I don’t remember this job including a bounty from the European Space Agency."

"Strictly speaking, this is a data entry process of online monitoring, we won’t hand the data directly over to the European Space Agency—not proactively anyway."

This meant that a highly valuable deserter appearing in Night City was only known to online monitoring.

If the European Space Agency found out, they would still need to approach online monitoring to exchange data, although the result was roughly the same, Lucas probably didn’t have that much clout.

Lille released his hand and unlocked Lucas’s prosthetic lock, apparently preparing to listen to what he had to say during Blais’s hacking.

As soon as the restriction was lifted, Lucas growled, "Let us go, I’ve bought insurance, I can pay!"

"Little brother," Lille patted his shoulder, "Do you think your insurance will be recognized when online monitoring has come knocking?

What insurance did you buy? Do you have a trauma team membership?"

"No..." Lucas answered bitterly, "Who can afford a trauma team’s rescue costs..."

"Why come to Night City?"

Lucas glanced at Anna, still unconscious on the ground, and mechanically responded, "What else can it be? Everyone’s the same, earning money, spending money, who doesn’t have dreams?"

After only a couple of sentences, Blais disconnected the prosthetic link with Lucas and turned toward Anna on the ground.

Lucas suddenly exploded, "Stay away from her!"

Blais didn’t even glance at him, pulling a cable out from Anna’s prosthetic.

Lille interrupted Lucas, "Brother, just extracting some data. Of course, this disloyal corporate dog might have installed a backdoor in it.

You can get me to clear it for you, no problem."

The normally composed Blais paused upon hearing this, but ultimately decided to finish the task at hand first.

Lucas, eyes red and breathing heavily, turned to Lille, his electronic voice box emitting a broken question, "Can you take charge? Take charge in front of this corporate dog?"

"Let’s talk first." Lille, with arms crossed, shrugged his shoulders, "So, you used to be a pilot for the European Space Agency, and she was..."

It wasn’t the first time Lille had met a soldier; Adkaduo’s Mitchell and Scorpion had served New America during the Unification War, both as armored soldiers.

However, compared to that, ACPA operators and pilots are much more sensitive, and Europe obviously holds stricter attitudes towards freelance mercenaries than New America does.

But could he still lie? The links to the cyber surveillance were plugged into his own head!

After hesitating for a moment, Lucas resigned himself: he was caught, what use was there in thinking these thoughts?

However, thinking about his adventures, he was in immense pain, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was a pilot! Anna is an ACPA operator!

Are you satisfied now? Ah! Why do these damn things always follow us?

Even in Night City, it’s the same?!"

"Hold on, brother." Lille once again interrupted the enraged Lucas, frankly, he thought this man was a bit unstable mentally.

"Did you get something wrong? You were caught here because my boys blasted you while you were speeding."

Lille pulled out Yinglong, unfolded the handle, and the gun began to preheat as it spun up, "You don’t think just because you flew planes and your wife operated an ACPA that you’re some big shot, do you?

Think you’re a Super Dream star, and everywhere you go, people chase you for autographs?

Stop being so startled, answer the question properly, do you understand?"

With each word, Yinglong tapped Lucas’s face, the spinning barrel frantically rubbing against his skin.

Lucas’s expression began to change rapidly: he was indeed somewhat capricious, but not to the point of losing his sanity.

Catching this subtle change, Lille pushed his success by shoving the gun barrel into his mouth.

"Hey, you understand? Why aren’t you talking? Speak!"

Ka-ka-ka-ka-ka-ka—

The spinning barrel of Yinglong pressed against Lucas’s gums, relentlessly grinding against his teeth, producing a clicking sound.

The pressure of being shot the next second finally taught Lucas to think and speak like a normal person, but...

How could he speak like this?!

Yinglong wasn’t a big gun, but it was still difficult with it stuffed in his mouth, causing his electronic voice box issues, only able to make groaning noises—

"If you can speak properly, just nod your head, stop this lovey-dovey stuff. You don’t want to live, but others do.

Night City is full of self-important idiots like you; you’re nothing, nod if you understand."

Lucas, his mind clouded by love, started to regain his sanity, his eyes gradually practical as he trembled like a pecking chick and nodded.

One look conveyed a single idea:

Big brother, whatever you want to ask, just ask.

"Good, finally a bit more normal." Lille withdrew the gun, and Blais also disconnected the personal link.

In a channel out of Lucas’s sight, Lille said to Blais: Old methods still work, huh?

"Which companies employed you?"

Lucas paused, then shook his head, "Just EBM and IEC, but we weren’t directly hired by them.

You could say we were hired by a... middleman, who also came to Night City with us, not quite officially."

Lille raised an eyebrow, "Name?"

"Authentic." Lucas replied, "It’s a strange name, seems to be a Japanese person, we all call him Authentic."

(Note 1: Assisted Combat Personnel Armor, also known as ACPA or Power Armor.)