Dogtown. [Known Locale].
The first gig had already been pushed to Cole's account—the random rerouted number Ethan had set up through V.
But the idiot client wouldn't pick up the damn phone.
Ethan could only squat on a Dogtown curb, staring at graffiti-covered shipping containers across the street, waiting for a response.
Lot of Scavengers around here too.
Ethan shook his head inwardly, wondering how many jobs the Dogtown Scavs racked up each day.
The graffiti showed a massive hand gripping a heart pierced with cyber-implants—blood seeping through fingers.
Their calling card. These "corpse-pickers" loved marking territory this way.
Knock someone out with a club. Kidnap. Ransom. Then flatline them anyway... one trick fits all.
Night City's basements crawled with these roaches—impossible to exterminate. Pay enough and these Eastern-European-accented thugs delivered results—provided the target didn't have fancy chrome. No guarantees those amoral scum wouldn't get greedy ideas.
"Maine, something smells off here. Why are there so many organ harvesters in Dogtown?"
Rebecca poked her head from the car. This was Maine's ride—plain, sturdy, thick alloy shell, gas-powered.
Maine eyed the brooding Ethan. "This gig—how much? Enough to split between us?"
"Thirty thousand."
Ethan stated the price directly.
"Holy shit! Thirty K?!" Pilar's Arasaka tech-glasses nearly fell off. "We gotta flatline a whole army of Scavs?!"
Dorio added her own assessment: "No wonder you didn't take this one solo."
Getting a new crew to agree on everything was tough. Right now, everyone had their own thoughts. Just temporary partners scraping by together.
Ethan felt like a day laborer squatting at the labor market waiting for a boss to pick him.
Frustrating.
[MESSAGE]
[Agata Leszczynska]: Why'd Hands push me to you? The hell? New guy?
[Ethan]: Yeah. I can do the job.
[Agata Leszczynska]: Forty K gig, and you're jerking me around? Hands finds people for me—I don't fucking trust you!
[Ethan]: Thirty K. No completion, no charge.
[Agata Leszczynska]: Should've said so! We're all chooms here. You take Scav work?
[Ethan]: Hit Scavs? Tell me what you need done.
[Agata Leszczynska]: Hit what?! Just... simple job. Known Locale. See you there :D
"Ugh, the Scav stink around here is practically crawling up my ass. Speaking of which—"
Pilar kicked Ethan's foot with his toe. "If the Scavs hire us, would you do it?"
"Yeah. I'd kill the Scavs."
"Oh! Pretty righteous." Pilar sneered.
Ethan shook his head. What the hell was going on? He was starting to suspect Hands was messing with them. Last thing they needed was NCPD tagging them as Scav associates.
"Pilar..." Dorio's voice carried a warning.
Ding—
Ethan's phone buzzed with a new message.
[Agata Leszczynska]: You here yet? You here yet?
[Ethan]: Where are you?
[Agata Leszczynska]: Can't talk outside. Walk deeper in, there's a Dogtown power plant here—we shoot black BDs here. Relax, it's definitely good work. Just escort someone out of Dogtown. Simple, right?
Ethan's expression darkened. Were they really doing business with Scavs?
No choice. He had to confirm with Hands. The old fox's voice on the phone was unhurried.
"Corporate job. Legit. The one meeting you had to hide in Dogtown... a friend."
"I guarantee it's not helping Scavs do their dirty work."
"Saving a life. Good karma."
Ethan hesitated. First gig. This was Cole's first job.
But why did it feel so disgusting?
Ethan cursed his bad luck and walked toward the distant power plant. "You actually called it—it IS related to Scavs. But Hands says the client dealing with our boss is corporate."
Maine looked at him. "Shit. Still feels like we're getting mixed up with organ harvesters."
Walking into the power plant, Ethan noticed cameras constantly sweeping over their group.
"Maelstrom, Scavengers... damn. If your boss wants to do peaceful business with these people, Ethan, he's definitely going to regret it."
Maine spat.
"Here!"
Behind some debris near the power plant's roll-up door, a red-haired, pock-marked man waved furtively.
"You've got three seconds. Tell me who you work for, or I put one in your skull."
Pilar had pulled a pistol, circling around Maine and Ethan, aiming straight at the Scav.
"Ethan, deal's off! Scavs are all scum!"
Rebecca joined her brother, drawing her weapon too.
Ethan frowned.
The crew didn't believe this was corporate work.
The redhead smiled obsequiously. "Easy there—I'm getting out today. Corp hired me. I'm done with this life."
Ethan scanned him. No [Jammer Mask] that Scavs usually wore. No blood spots or meat scraps on him.
He did look like someone leaving the trade.
Ethan shrugged. "You see—my crew wants to flatline you. Better explain quick what you need."
"Biotechnica paid me a big chunk. I'm giving up this score—this fat sheep. Take the guy and go."
Ethan's group suddenly understood.
Pilar said: "Oh, a turncoat? Took corp money to betray your boss?"
"Hurry up, chooms—take him and leave! If the others come back, there's gonna be big trouble!"
While speaking, two of the ex-Scav's underlings dragged out a black body bag.
Dorio saw the blood residue on it, cursed, and rushed to unzip it.
A man lay inside, soaking in an ice-water mixture. His cyberware had been pried at. Red mottling on his arms. Face deathly pale.
"Get him to Pacifica Coastline. Company's sending someone to pick up. Hurry."
Agata Leszczynska sent Ethan the address, then hurriedly waved them off and scurried behind the containers. Meanwhile, 60,000 eddies landed in the fictional Cole account.
Fixer takes twenty thousand?
Ethan realized: no wonder fixers lived large. If you had pull, it really was cushier than merc work.
Prerequisite: backing. Like a corp or gang.
Ethan dared do this because of Arasaka and his crew.
"Still alive?"
Maine asked urgently.
Rebecca's datacord retracted into her palm. "Trauma Team protocols are all locked out. This guy's hanging by a thread. We gotta move."
They hefted the bag and rushed toward the parked car.
No time to curse these maggots or throw down with them.
"Scavs released him. Corp must've paid through the nose."
Maine looked at Ethan. Their eyes met—both sensing something was off. Both certain of the same thought. A gut feeling that this job seemed like Scavs having a conscience... but there had to be some angle they weren't seeing.
Scavs developing a conscience? About as likely as NCPD refusing bribes.