So it turns out Ethan’s actually pretty damn well connected.
While not everybody greeted him upon seeing him, enough did that he was talking with multiple people almost nonstop.
Which is impressive and all, but it also means that for the first time since we arrived in Night City I want to move on and he doesn’t.
Now I’m not so impatient as to force someone — who has been going out of their way to look after me for the past two days no less — to stop what they’re doing because I’m bored, but I ran out of stuff to talk to Radia about 2 hours ago and it’s started to get to me.
Luckily I’m finally presented with a chance to get a move on when a group of 7 people finished discussing something about why Ethan stopped visiting Night City and headed to their own booth.
“So what are we doing next?”
Seemingly only now realising that I had a lot less to do here than he did, Ethan was quick to apologize. “Oh! Sorry, I forgot this place isn’t the most fun for newbies.
“Honestly I figured we’d just chill here until you had to log off. Is there anything you want to do?”
At that I find myself more at a loss than I expected to be.
So far I’ve visited exclusively Dr. Olivar’s clinic and a variety of bars and nightclubs. I don’t really know what else Night City has to offer.
I suppose we could go look for more bars, but considering that my first experience with alcohol ever was an over 24 hour long bender it’d probably be best if I did something different.
And when I try to think of what else there is to do here the only thing I can think of is “crime”, which might make me a bad person but, hey, is it really robbing someone if what you’re stealing is virtual?
“What if we do a heist or something?”
“A heist? Do you have anywhere more specific in mind?”
“Uhh… I did hear about a secret underwater laboratory while we were in Golden Gai.”
“Hmm, maybe. But you’re not exactly properly equipped for something like that, and there’s not really an easy way to get you proper weaponry anytime soon.”
“Why not? Can’t you just visit a back alley dealer or something?”
“Sure if all you want is a gun, but nobody with half a brain is gonna sell the good stuff, and you aren’t gonna get your hands on the good stuff in the first place if you’re not smart.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, legal gun stores are only ever gonna sell the type of stuff you could realistically buy IRL. If you want a sci-fi gun you’re gonna need to steal it from some megacorp, which is not easy in the slightest. On top of that, any targets that an independent criminal could realistically take down are gonna be scooped up by the numerous gangs throughout the city, who have a vested interest in maintaining their monopoly on high end weaponry.”
“I mean, you seem to have a lot of connections. Couldn’t you work out a deal?”
“I have a lot of connections among mercs not gangs.”
“So even you don’t have any good guns?”
“I have one, and if I tried to get any more I’d have a bounty on my head within the hour.”
That was a rather depressing notion. I suppose it only makes sense that the people with power would do anything to keep it, but it’s really annoying to see this same shit in VR. I suppose humans are the same no matter the circumstances.
“Is there really no way for me to get a weapon?”
“Well if you joined a gang they’d give you one, although it’d be tough to convince them to lend you anything worthwhile within a couple hours of joining. Especially not if you’re going to be using it for an independent heist and then logging off permanently.”
Luckily, however, right when I was on the verge of giving up on my dreams of bank robberies and high speed chases Radia decided to interject. “If you’re looking for some firepower I might have something for you.”
Seemingly confused, Ethan could only ask “what?” before Radia fully explained.
“You see, recently the Cyberwolves started selling out to Mars Technologies. It wasn’t anything major, just working some protection details and allowing Mars caravans through their territory safely, but — as you can imagine — this pissed off pretty much every other gang close enough to them to care. This has caused tensions in the city center to absolutely skyrocket as of late. Nothing major has gone down yet but it’s clear that everyone who’s anyone desperately needs to prepare for an absolutely massive turf war.”
A few seconds of awkward silence later Ethan finally asks the question on both our minds “and how does that have anything to do with us getting some good weapons?”
“Oh! Right! Well I recently discovered that in preparation, Mars has been regularly shipping trucks full of cybernetics, weaponry, and other dangerous shit into Cyberwolf territory. I was planning on selling intel on their routes to the highest bidder, but I’d be willing to tell you where they’ll be today if Ella gives me her Islands ID so we can hang out outside of Night City.”
“What? I’d do that regardless! You don’t need to give up something this valuable for that!”
“Oh don’t you worry your pretty little head. I’m giving you info for today only, they might change their routes after this but I’ll still make a fuck ton off this intel, I can promise you that.”
After thinking about it for a few moments Ethan quickly comes to a decision, saying “if you’d be willing we would appreciate it.”
“But of course. Anything for a friend,” she says while giving me a sly wink — which was only ruined by her fittingly radiant smile.
----------------------------------------
A couple of hours later I was sitting on the edge of a 4 story building just outside of the city center in some brand new combat gear.
The stuff was made of a carbon-nanotube weave and covered in bulky blocks of energy absorbing gel that were fitted anywhere they wouldn’t impede my movements. In addition, there were pockets covering nearly every surface — even under my armpits and on the small of my back for reasons I can’t comprehend — and it was all patterned with city camo.
Covering my head was a large hood that hid everything but my glowing eyes and horns. For those had a pair of tinted goggles and some pitch black medical gauze, and — although my horns were already wrapped — I had decided to leave the goggles around my neck for now.
Strapped tightly to my back was a small backpack containing a variety of tools, including grenades, 3 silent, vacuum-powered suction-cups, a staple gun, nanoinjectors — basically an epipen that makes your wounds heal faster — and a small parachute that could be deployed from the top of the pack — it wouldn’t save anyone from a fall that reached terminal velocity, but for smaller drops, it could prevent any serious injuries.
Strapped to both of my arms were a pair of grappling hooks that could extend up to 50 meters, the soles of my shoes were filled with the same shock absorbing gel covering my vitals, and my gloves were covered in a synthetic gecko skin that would prevent me from dropping my weapon in almost any circumstances.
Speaking of weapons, sitting snugly on my hip was a simple 9mm Glock with a 17 round magazine and slung over my right shoulder was an Atchisson fully automatic shotgun.
According to Ethan these guns were ideal for me since my lack of experience with firearms means I can’t aim for shit — and considering my performance at the gun range when I was learning proper shooting posture, I’m inclined to agree.
Ethan — on the other hand — was equipped with more precision focused weaponry. I don’t know their names, because I wasn’t their when they were purchased — or in his sniper rifle’s case, probably stolen — but they were recognizable enough that I could make comparisons.
On his hip was what I had to assume was a Desert Eagle, considering its larger caliber and longer barrel, over his right shoulder was what I believed to be an M4 Carbine, and on the other side of his backpack was a sniper rifle covered in too much sci-fi bullshit to be compared to any real gun model.
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Covering its surface were numerous pipes — leading from a container in the stock — that were covered in a thin layer of frost, all leading into a variety of glowing heatsinks that constantly emitted a small amount of heat.
“How does that thing even work?”
Pulling his attention away from the road beneath us Ethan quickly notices where my gaze is locked to, and begins explaining as best he can while still keeping watch for the caravan. “Supposedly it fires its rounds through nuclear fusion. Those tubes are filled with liquid tritium and when I pull the trigger it all gets compressed into the chamber, then when I release the trigger, it gets ignited and the gun fires.”
Hearing that, I try to whistle and fail — luckily I didn’t produce enough sound for Ethan to hear me — before turning my attention back to the road.
According to Radia, a Mars convoy consisting of 6 trucks will be passing through this road at 9am. While it’ll be carrying a ton of useful stuff our priority is getting our hands on the cargo stored in the third truck. That’s where the weaponry is, and that’s the same reason it’s the best defended out of all the trucks in the convoy.
That said, we do have a plan.
Just then we spotted the first truck coming around a corner 4 blocks away from us and got into position.
In just a few practiced motions Ethan pulls his sniper rifle up to his shoulder and takes a kneeling position. When the convoy our block he pulls down the trigger and a loud hissing sound comes from the tubing on his gun as the liquid tritium is compressed in the chamber. As the hissing quiets down it’s replaced by a sudden warmth emanating from the heat sinks as they work to expel the thermal energy generated when the liquid tritium solidified.
Then when the first truck in the line crossed right in front of us Ethan released the trigger and a thundering boom rang out as a bullet instantly exceeded hypersonic velocity, leaving behind only a bright flash as the atmosphere in its wake was turned into plasma along with a quarter of the front of the fourth truck in the convoy.
Instantly 7 armed guards emerged from the 4 center trucks — only one exiting the destroyed truck — and 25 more came out of the lead and rear trucks each, all of whom took up positions guarding the convoy while the trucks themselves stopped. A couple of the guards even climbed on top of the trucks and started scanning the building the shot had come from, but we had already moved away from the edge. Meaning they didn’t spot anything that could have broken through their armour.
A few seconds later, however, a barrage of gunfire erupted from nearby buildings and alleyways as every two-bit criminal with a gun took their shot at nabbing something from the valuable corpo convoy.
Hearing this reaction I couldn’t help but grin as our plan worked.
You see, while typically nobody but organized gangs would willingly attack a force of armed corporate guards, Ethan believed that if we force the convoy to stop, no criminal worth their salt would give up the chance to not only stick it to a megacop, but also make a massive paycheck — especially if they can just take pot shots from behind cover.
Now that the guards were distracted we crept back up to the edge of the building as Ethan took out his M4 and took down the few people left between us and our target while I prepared my shotgun.
When the coast was finally clear enough, we both leapt from the rooftop we were standing on and pulled our parachutes, slowing us just enough so that when we landed on the road right next to the third truck in the line we managed to avoid injury.
Taking up my position just behind Ethan I carefully braced my gun against my shoulder and crouched down — just like I had been taught only an hour earlier — and watched all around us for anyone who might try and stop us.
Ethan, on the other hand, had extracted a handheld laser cutter from his backpack and was working on cutting through the bulky armour plating between us and our prize.
Only a few seconds into this process, however, I spotted my first target.
To our left was a young man in full Mars body armour, who had seemingly noticed us while he was reloading. Instantly he turned his gun towards me and opened fire.
In a fit of panic I tightened up my whole body and accidentally pulled the trigger — yes I had my finger on the trigger but it was my first gunfight so I don’t want to hear it. Luckily, 1 of my 5 shots managed to hit the enemy and he was knocked off his feet and none of his bullets hit anywhere unprotected. Unluckily, the shots that did land combined with the recoil of my gun and my tensed up body to knock me off my feet. This granted a group of three people behind me the perfect opportunity to finish me off — looks like he called in reinforcements.
Thinking quickly, rolled into a ball and onto my elbows and knees, allowing the most armored section of my body to take the blows. But there’s no way three trained soldiers wouldn’t hit the vulnerable sections of my armour with a full magazine of shots, so when their fire finally subsided I had 3 bullet holes in my side — one of which had hit my lung — and 2 in my back.
But, because of the combination of shock and Night City’s inherent pain reduction, I was able to use the opening their reloads presented, to quickly reach into my backpack and grab a grenade. Unfortunately, opening a brand new backpack and grabbing a grenade from it is not as simple of a process as I had hoped, and by the time I was throwing the explosive all three of my opponents were ready to fill me full of holes. But, a quick roll to the side meant that none of their shots hit any weak points in the time it took for my grenade to reach them and detonate.
My roll did also cause two grenades, a suction cup, and a nanoinjector to fall out of my backpack, but that was hardly my priority right now, because it was at this moment that the guy I shot first got onto his feet and opened fire once more.
Now, the armour I was wearing is pretty damn good but, after being hit by three full mags of rifle fire the gel on my back was at its limits, meaning that 5 more rounds turned my intestines into swiss cheese. Except I wasn’t dead yet, and because of the shots he had already spent on our previous exchange he was forced to reload.
Quickly taking advantage of the opportunity this presented I turned around and unloaded what was left of my mag — taking him down before he could get to cover.
Now in the clear for a few moments I reach down and grab the nanoinjector on the ground before slotting it into a small divot in the neck of my armour and pressing down on the end.
Near instantly the pain I was experiencing disappeared and my body went slack in relief.
Unfortunately I was still in the middle of a gunfight, and it was at that moment that 4 more soldiers crossed to our side of the convoy and sighted in on me.
Except in that instant a loud clanging sound distracted them for just an instant as a single bullet entered each of their necks.
Turning to the source of the noise, I found Ethan with his Deagle raised and still smoking. After holstering the gun in one smooth motion, he quickly kneeled down next to me, put one of my arms over his shoulders, and helped me into the back of the truck.
“We’ll stay until those injuries heal enough for you to run, but in the meantime grab anything good you can get your hands on,” he said while handing me the laser cutter before turning back to the hole he had made, and sighting down his rifle and crouching in preparation for anyone who might attack us.
Turning to the rest of the vehicle — instead of the sci-fi armoury I expected — I only see shelves and shelves of cardboard boxes. I suppose it makes sense — Mars is mostly shipping out mass produced weaponry, but on the far end of the room — against the wall separating the storage from the driver’s seat — is what we’re really after.
A single-shot rifle, a revolver, a minigun, a bow, a flamethrower, and a sword — each in their own containers — are on display. Beneath them are crates — presumably filled with ammunition — and the containers themselves are made from glass surrounded by an electrified fence.
Immediately my first target was the sword, not because it’s cool — although it’s definitely cool — but because any sci-fi sword that’s worth anything is gonna be able to cut much more effectively than a little laser cutter — especially one curved like this.
After a full minute of cutting I finally manage to cut a hole big enough to reach through without getting zapped, and I quickly extract the sword from its and then its sheath. Instantly a low hum fills the room as a black void — one even darker than my hair — starts sucking in the air around it.
Immediately I cut open the container holding the revolver — the image of Ethan using his deagle to take out those 4 soldiers still fresh in my mind — and replace the glock on my hip with it.
Next I grab the single-shot rifle and turn to the remaining three. First of all, there’s no way we’re lugging a massive minigun out of here, we’re in the middle of a gun fight, we need stuff that’s lightweight. Secondly, while we could definitely retrofit ammunition for all the other weapons, nearly all of the potency of a flamethrower is the fuel you use in it. And while it’s not to the same extent, the bow runs into the same problem, plus, it’s a bow, why would you use a bow when you could use a gun?
Finally I make sure to grab as much ammunition — and some batteries — for the three weapons I’ve grabbed, before turning and rushing to get Ethan.
When he sees me running over he stands up and takes some of the extra ammo I’m carrying before shoving it into his pockets. “You gonna use that rifle?”
“It’s probably best if you take it. You saw how bad of a shot I am.”
While slinging his old rifle over his shoulder and grabbing the new rifle he joked back “that’s why it was smart of you to grab a sword.”
“A sword isn’t exactly gonna help against someone with a gun.”
“Maybe if they’re far away, but at close range there’s nothing better.”
“I… guess?”
“Now,” he said while clapping, “let’s get out of here.”
Luckily, when we got out of the truck all of the Mars guards had been taken care of.
Unluckily, that was because a local gang had shown up.
“HEY! What the Fuck do you think you’re doing!? This is Slum Rat territory! You can’t come in here, make a mess and leave with our stuff!”
Looking to where the voice was coming from I found a bald dwarf — like someone with dwarfism, not a fantasy dwarf — with a small, grey goatee and dressed in a black, leather jacket, fully red in the face as he yelled at us.
Seemingly recognizing the man, Ethan quickly responded. “Sorry Poison, we’re just gonna use these things for one job, and then we’ll give em to your gang.”
“You recognize me. If you can recognize me, why can’t I recognize you?”
“Well, I’m using a different avatar, but I’m West Wind.”
“Oh? Well then you should know you’re not gonna walk out of here with those weapons. Or have you forgotten that in your time away from Night City?”
“Nah man, like I said we’re just gonna use em for one job then we’ll hand em over.”
“And why should I allow that? I have no reason to let you leave here with those weapons.”
“We’ll give you a cut of whatever we get.”
Seemingly expecting that response Poison instantly responds with “50%.”
Ethan — similarly unbothered — answered, “it’s not really a money job.”
“That’s fine. 50% of whatever you get your hands on. With the exception of weaponry of course”
“You have a deal.”
When the two men then shake on it they’re both displaying a predatory smile that sends a shiver up my spine. After that tense moment Ethan simply turns around and starts walking down the street, and I quickly move to follow him.
When I catch back up I quickly ask “who-”
Before Ethan puts a finger over my mouth and says “I’ve called us a taxi we’ll talk inside of it,” forcing me to wait 15 seconds for the taxi to arrive.
When we finally aren’t risking somebody eavesdropping — except, of course, for the taxi company — Ethan finally explains.
“That was Rat Poison. He’s the leader of the Slum Rats gang. He’s not all that strong on a personal level, but that just makes the fact that he’s a gang leader all the more intimidating. The dude’s a master strategist and cunning as hell. Just as a warning; never piss him off. He will make you regret it.”
After finishing his warning, however, Ethan’s eyes rapidly softened as he asked in a gentler voice “more importantly, how are you holding up? Things got pretty rough there. If you want to call this whole thing off I’d get it.” Opening my mouth to say that I’m fine, I’m instead interrupted by him raising his hand to stop me. “And don’t just say you’re fine, you’re still pretty hyped up on adrenaline. Actually take the time to think about it.”
Closing my mouth and taking his advice, I try to focus on exactly what I felt, both in the moment and after the fact. I can definitely say that, in the moment, I was pretty much fine. Sure, I panicked pretty hard when I first started getting shot at, but it was my first gunfight — I feel like I did pretty good, considering.
As far as pain goes, though, I pretty much didn’t even register it. The pain dimmers transformed the bullet wound into nothing more than a dull ache, and by the time I was able to even think about my injuries I had already hit myself with a nanoinjector which meant that all pain I would have experienced was nullified.
As for how I’m feeling now? Well, I’m not really feeling anything negative towards the experience. In fact, I’d say that I overall enjoyed it.
I would’ve definitely preferred not getting shot a bunch, but the feeling of being in the middle of the action, with all that gunfire surrounding me? I absolutely loved it.
Maybe that makes me weird — or maybe it’s only because all the enemies were wearing full body armor that prevented me from experiencing the gorier effects of bullet wounds — but that moment when Ethan took down 4 guys in a second has got to be one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen.
Speaking of which, I look down at my brand new revolver and make a silent vow to reach that level myself one day.
Which I suppose is the only answer I really need.
“I loved it. Could’ve done without the dozen-odd bullet wounds, but that only happened because of my inexperience. I’ll definitely get just as good as you one day!”
Seemingly surprised by my reaction, Ethan spent a few seconds assessing me, before finally smiling gently and saying “well then we’re gonna have to get right to training. We only have 8 hours left to prepare for this heist of yours”