"Leo, I've got the lizard, but I don't really understand why you're interested in this. Are you planning to splice the lizard's DNA into your cells? That might help, but it won't solve the issue of your DNA randomly breaking down."
Old Vic expressed his confusion over the phone.
Crazy scientific ideas like those of Connors had mostly been tested in the world of 2077, so he quickly guessed Leo's intention.
However, technological advancement in 2077 had essentially stalled, with issues like telomere degradation and spontaneous DNA breakdown being researched but remaining uncontrollable.
Perhaps data from the Pre-Net era had provided some insights for future generations, but they likely didn't understand where those answers came from.
"So I'm doing the research myself. Just help me create a biological model of that lizard; I need it."
"Alright... but I'll need to buy some equipment. How are we paying for this?"
Leo glanced at his account balance: €40,344.
Not a small sum, but definitely not a lot.
"Uh, Old Vic, do you accept credit? I'm working on a big job right now..."
"Seeing as you're the only client who's planning to replace me, just this once—if it comes to it, I'll ask V for the money. Is she next to you?"
Leo sneaked a glance at V, who was driving. "She agreed. I've seen her account; she's got around 400 grand."
"Alright then, I'll need some time. This stuff is for research; it's not cheap."
After hanging up, Leo returned to the car. The three of them were driving the beat-up Galena "Rattler" they'd brought over from the border. To avoid attention, they'd given it a new coat—well, more like splashed some paint over it. The bullet holes were covered with fabric patches.
Surprisingly, the car was still running strong despite the battle it had seen, with only one bumper hanging off.
However, a piece of metal had flown off the roof.
No wonder this car had earned the nickname—the "Mobile Tetanus Trap."
"We need a new car," V muttered as she drove. "To be honest, owning a car is one of my dreams too, but I can't afford a good one, and I don't want a crappy one."
As they drove over the overpass, they saw an NCPD armored patrol vehicle driving down the adjacent road.
Emperor 720 Ironclad, an NCPD exclusive model, armored and integrated with military technology. The front bumper was as solid as the prow of an old ship.
"How about that one?" Leo asked.
"That's a nice ride," Jackie said excitedly, leaning out the window to watch the armored beast drive by. "Aside from a cyberpsycho, this baby can handle anything! Too bad we can't get one. We could try for the lower-end model, the Emperor 620 Ragnar. The frame's still tough, the skin can double as armor, and it's got enough power. The suspension's so good you'd feel like you're flying, even at 60 mph in the Badlands!"
V rolled her eyes. "When I dream of buying a car, it's for showing off—a good-looking sedan that's also bulletproof, if possible."
"The only car that fits that bill is the Hera from Rayfield, but unfortunately, only second-hand ones are available; all new ones are NCPD exclusives."
V looked at Jackie in surprise. "Damn, you nailed my dream car in one shot. Great minds think alike."
"Heh, I like checking out cars too, but I prefer motorcycles. Right now, though, I'm more interested in getting a new shell for my gun. I've already ordered a custom job from a gunsmith—a gold-plated shell, with a handcrafted suppressor and rifling. It's going to be badass."
Jackie's weapon was the Nue from Tsunami Defense Systems. If he replaced the shell with gold... Leo could imagine exactly what Jackie was envisioning—a golden version of the "Mox" from the game.
Thinking for a moment, Leo said, "Once you get that shell, I'll design some new bullets for you."
"No way, you can do that too? I'll definitely look forward to it... and making some good money."
Jackie scratched his head, not mentioning that the gunsmith hadn't finished the job because he hadn't paid the final installment.
"But you'd better get used to shotguns and machine guns; we need a heavy gunner for cover. All of us just having pistols leaves us vulnerable."
"No problem, man. I'm a jack-of-all-trades."
The car crossed the bridge and entered Santo Domingo. Compared to the inner city, this place was both poor and desolate. Most of the heavy industry in Night City was concentrated here, along with a massive sewage treatment plant.
What's worse, if you head to the far east of Santo Domingo, you'll see a huge dam.
And on the other side of that dam is a lake made of garbage and sewage.
This isn't a stable development zone; on the contrary, factories open and close, go bankrupt, and new ones are constantly built. Abandoned buildings are a common sight.
Arroyo is the largest industrial district in Santo Domingo and the headquarters of the 6th Street Gang. There's even an old nuclear power plant there—whether it's still operational is anyone's guess.
"A nuclear power plant..." Leo muttered, looking at the smoke-shrouded industrial zone in the distance, lost in thought.
It's no exaggeration to say that given time, he could turn any nuclear power plant into a nuclear bomb—that's his expertise.
But that's an extreme option for extreme situations.
He's not about to blow up Night City just to take out the 6th Street Gang.
The industrial zone wasn't their destination. They were heading to the far east of Santo Domingo, near the Badlands—
Colorado Farm, where the workers of Santo Domingo returned home after a long day's work.
From here on... NCPD patrols disappeared from the streets. The 6th Street Gang enforced their own order here.
Oddly enough, despite it being evening when workers usually changed shifts, the streets were almost empty.
However, plenty of half-dead bodies were lying around. People moved quickly, as if every second on the street was burning their feet.
The car slowed down, and Leo noticed a street vendor's stall surrounded by two new recruits from the 6th Street Gang.
"Hey, old man, you're short on protection money this month. What, you think 6th Street's not packing enough heat, so you're out here on your own?"
"But... there are fewer people around, and the protection fee went up. Last month it was 800 euros..."
"Who cares if it went up! There's new management here, understand? I'm in charge now, so you pay more! How else am I supposed to look good to the boss upstairs?!"
"But I really don't have the money. If I don't sell anything, how can I pay the protection fee?"
"I don't give a damn. If you don't pay up, you're not setting up shop here. Get lost, or I'll feed you some lead!"
The three in the car noticed this scene, as did everyone else walking the streets.
But no one intervened.
V remarked with some amusement, "I heard the 6th Street Gang originally stepped up because they were fed up with NCPD's inaction and wanted to protect the community, uphold justice. They even talked about restoring the old U.S. Constitution..."
Jackie added, "Yeah, I heard that too. They say the workers here treat this place as home and never leave."
Leo nodded. "In a way, those rumors aren't entirely wrong. Justice is flexible, and the old U.S. Constitution... well, it's just that. As for home..."
This polluted, desolate Santo Domingo really is the lifelong home for the workers.
Though it doesn't look great, and the services are cheap, the area still has bars, shops, parks, and even schools—everything you need.
Even though the brighter, flashier Night City is just across the river, these people might never leave here in their lifetimes, or have any reason to.
Or to put it another way, the skyscraper-filled Watson District is Night City, and so is the desolate, chaotic Santo Domingo.
"Lamar's Armory—it's over there. What's the plan?"
The car pulled over, and V pointed to a rundown neighborhood in the distance.
Leo replied, "This place looks like an Afghan war zone. Jackie and I will go in and talk to Kaplan. You find a place to jack into her private database, and I'll handle the hacking.
We need to do this quietly. If the 6th Street Gang catches on, we'll be in serious trouble. We'll get shot at, and we might not even find the information we need.
But we also need to scare Rosanne—so, go find a way to sneak in."
V got out of the car and loaded her gun. "Alright, Jackie, you go with him. Intimidation is your job."
"No problem... but what's an Afghan war zone?"
"Who knows?" V shrugged. "The kid just likes to say stuff we don't understand."