[Koch: Lamar, what's the situation?]
[Koch: Lamar, respond!]
[Koch: Terminate the project!]
Koch's messages went unanswered for a long time. She paced anxiously around the room, racking her brain, trying to figure out what was going on.
Finally, she sent one last message to terminate the project and started gathering her things to flee—
She grabbed her bag, not even bothering to turn off the television or other electronics in her office.
She planned to head to the Biotechnica building's server room to deal with the project data before making her escape.
Click—
The automatic security door opened, and Koch froze—
Two pistols were aimed at her chest, and three fierce-looking figures stood in the doorway.
Fear shot straight to her brain, coldness spreading from her head to her limbs.
V and Jackie pressed their pistols against her shoulders, pushing her back slightly.
Leo smiled faintly, "Good evening, Dr. Koch."
He followed them in, and the automatic door closed behind them.
The television continued playing the program.
"So, is it because of this that you all stormed into City Center and caused so much trouble? Do you have any evidence to prove that Biotechnica was behind this?"
Hector remained silent—of course, they didn't have any evidence.
The people at Biotechnica weren't fools; the only evidence was the experimental contracts they had signed.
But what could a contract prove?
The contract was signed by the nomads themselves, with a clause that clearly stated "risks involved."
To be honest, even when Hector had made up his mind, he had still been telling himself that this was just an experimental risk, blaming his own foolishness.
But Leo had told him that this wasn't part of the experiment at all, that Biotechnica had definitely done something else that caused the problem, and promised he could get them evidence.
Seeing Hector's silence, Ziggy-Q pressed on, "So... you don't have any evidence. To be honest, I sympathize with your situation, but you have to understand that out in the Badlands, anything can happen. Maybe you just picked up some disease from the Badlands, and now you're blaming Biotechnica? But because of this, you committed such heinous acts in the heart of Night City. Doesn't your conscience hurt?"
Hector suddenly lifted his head, those bloodshot eyes glaring at Ziggy-Q, sending a chill down the flamboyant host's spine.
But then he remembered—before the show, the nomad had agreed that he was only carrying an old, unloaded revolver.
What could he possibly do?
Hector slowly spoke, "I want to tell my story, a typical wanderer's story."
Zig-Q glanced at the audience, then said, "Of course, go ahead."
Hector continued, "Night City sees us as outlaws, but until I was 24, I had never touched a gun."
"So, what did you do?"
"Farming, driving, car repair, long-haul delivery."
"What happened when you were 24?"
Hector glanced at Zig-Q, then at the audience, before pulling out a revolver, an old-fashioned gun.
"When I was 24, I used this gun to kill someone from Biotechnica. This gun has a bit of history—my great-grandfather was supposedly a cowboy and used this gun to kill a sheriff."
The audience erupted in shock again.
So, Hector's family had a legacy, and from his great-grandfather's time, they had been outlaws.
Ziggy-Q was also surprised, but he couldn't help feeling that this gun seemed a bit cursed.
"So, you come from a long line of outlaws, but your parents worked hard to give you a chance to live a good life on the farm. Why go back to being a criminal?"
"That year, most of our crops died—we grew them ourselves, nothing to do with Biotechnica, but the water went bad. We had no money, and Biotechnica came to collect debts—royalties for the synth-wheat, which had gone up that year. We couldn't pay. Damn it, who can afford the synth-wheat royalties? If it weren't for my father's insistence, I wouldn't have even bothered growing it!"
"But that's still not a reason to kill someone! Why would the wanderers accept a murderer?"
That's what everyone was thinking.
Faced with the audience's accusations, Hector fell silent.
Having no money didn't justify killing someone.
Hector didn't think that being broke meant you could just kill indiscriminately. He simply felt that he hadn't killed for money.
Outside the TV, Dr. Koch, with a gun pointed at her, was forced to sit on the sofa, with Leo sitting across from her.
The TV show continued playing, and Leo signaled V with a glance. V walked over to the computer and inserted a personal link.
On the table in front of them was a bottle of recently opened red wine. Leo picked it up and looked at it.
"Quite the refined taste, Dr. Koch. Open the system permissions."
"Listen, whatever you want, you're not going to get it. Going against the corporation is a death wish! No matter who's backing you, you still have a chance to turn back—"
Leo's brow furrowed, and he smashed the glass on the floor near Koch's feet.
Crash!
Glass shards flew everywhere, silencing the woman instantly.
"Everyone dies eventually, but if you keep up that attitude, I promise you'll die sooner—today, in fact, seems like a good day. You already know why we're here—tell me everything about Project Nightingale, including where the files are. Depending on what you say, my boss will decide our next move."
Koch swallowed hard. She had no idea how to handle these maniacs.
What kind of lunatics would break into the Biotechnica building?
How did they even get past all that security on the lower levels?
And who is this "boss" he's talking about?
What do they even want?
Everything was a mystery. The uncertainty fueled her fear, clouding her usually sharp mind, and under the pressure of that shiny golden pistol, she became compliant.
"Project Nightingale... is a human enhancement experiment. The core concept is to increase the electromagnetic sensitivity of nerve cells, fundamentally providing a method for cellular adaptation, increasing the integration and reaction range of implants."
As Koch spoke, she obediently opened her implant permissions. Leo walked over and inserted a personal link.
In an instant, all memories of the trio's appearances were erased from Koch's mind, and her cyber eyes displayed large sections of static when she looked at them.
"Continue."
"We promised the Red Ocher nomads benefits for participating in the experiment, but something went wrong..."
"What went wrong?"
"The marketing department had some drugs and vaccines that were about to expire, so they... um, they poisoned the Badlands..."
Leo raised an eyebrow, "Gamma rabies? Did Santo Domingo get hit too?"
"How do you know about that..." Koch suddenly hesitated.
She had heard that a batch of medicine was stolen from the 6th Street Gang, and because of it, her internal partners had even asked her to keep an eye on market prices.
Were these the robbers?
Koch suddenly realized that maybe these robbers could be negotiated with—if they were in it for the money.
With this new thought, her fear subsided somewhat, and Koch continued, "Yes, the one who did it is named Alex Pushkin, and he was in charge of the goods. But the poisoning disrupted the normal progress of Project Nightingale, which is why the wanderers started dying."
Leo's gaze toward Koch grew even more peculiar.
This woman didn't hesitate to lie and throw her teammates under the bus just to make her story more believable.
With all the pieces of the puzzle coming together, and Leo's understanding of the plot, he could roughly piece together the truth.
Alex Pushkin had teamed up with Koch, saying he wanted to sell some near-expiry drugs and split the profits. Koch had agreed, and then, during Project Nightingale, they had poisoned the area.
The virus somehow infected the subjects of Project Nightingale, causing issues and leading to deaths among the Red Ocher family.
Leo retrieved his personal link and looked at Hector on the TV, who was defending his case, then said slowly:
"Just to sell a batch of surplus drugs and vaccines, you poisoned both the city and the Badlands. Classic corporate dog move. Too bad in this classic corporate dog story, you're the modern-day clown because you messed up the real business with your side hustle. So, in the end, killing you has nothing to do with the corp—in fact, Biotechnica probably wants you dead too."
Koch felt as if she had fallen into an icy pit, her briefly regained composure quickly crumbling as Leo blamed the poisoning squarely on her.
And in fact, Leo's judgment was spot-on—that's exactly how it had happened.
Leo sat down across from her and said, "But since it's come to this, I'll give you a way out—get the transgenic splicing and cultivation machine transferred from your headquarters."
Koch looked up, disbelief filling her eyes.
There was a glimmer of hope that she might survive this ordeal.