Chapter 3: So, You've Finally Walked the Path
"You all can talk. I've gotta bounce. I need to check on how Judy's handling things," Susan said, getting to her feet now that business was on track. She gave Korna a quick nod, but before leaving, she made a point to shoot one last glare at Rhys.
Rhys stared right back. Bring it on. Who's afraid of who?
"Alright, Rhys, stop bickering with her. You two are really something else..." Korna said, a mix of amusement and helplessness in her voice.
"She started it. That's Susan for you. When she needs me, she's all sweet-talk and asks me to handle her business. Last time some girls from Japantown wanted to join up full-time, who do you think went and brought them back?"
"Try to see her side. We're family here," Korna said soothingly, patting Rhys on the back.
"Okay, let's get down to business," Korna said, turning to Maine. "My part is done. I've made the introduction. The specifics are between you two."
Maine gave Korna a thumbs-up, then sat up straight, his larger-than-life presence filling the room. He poured a glass full of booze, slid it over to Rhys, and flashed a grin full of bright white teeth. "Here, choom, have a drink. I apologize for my earlier rudeness."
Rhys took the glass and sipped it. "Just tell me what you need me to do."
"Don't be so cold, pal. This is a delta deal for both of us. You need to lay low for a bit, and I need a specialist. It's a perfect match. We're helping each other out."
Maine tried to joke, but seeing Rhys's deadpan expression, he just gave a sheepish laugh.
After a moment, he got serious. "Okay, here's the gig. We're hitting Biotechnica to steal a data shard."
"You're stealing from Biotechnica? They're a major corpo," Rhys said with a frown.
In his five years in Night City, Rhys had never been a merc, but that didn't mean he was clueless about the life. Besides, the Mox were still a gang, however small. Rhys had been running the streets long enough to know the rules.
Messing with a major corporation? You might as well stick your hand in a cyber-tiger's cage at the zoo.
Korna sat quietly to the side, sipping her drink as if she couldn't hear a word of their conversation.
"High risk, high reward. We've been casing this for a long time, done our homework down to the last detail. Relax, nothing's gonna go wrong. Besides, are you even a merc if you're not hitting the corps?"
"See her?" Maine thumbed towards the hacker in the corner, his voice filled with pride. "That's Sasha. She's our netrunner, and her skills are preem. She can slice through Biotechnica's security in minutes."
Rhys glanced at Sasha. He recognized her, but only from a brief appearance in the ending credits of the Edgerunners anime. She wasn't part of Maine's crew in the main story. Beyond that, he knew nothing.
Makes sense, he thought. It's still 2075. Lucy and Kiwi won't join up for another year. David's story is still a ways off.
Sasha raised a hand, her long fingers giving a slight, delicate wave in greeting.
Rhys turned his attention back to Maine, his expression unchanged. He had to admit, Sasha was cute, but having spent years with the Mox, he'd seen more than his share of beautiful women. Rita Wheeler was standing guard outside right now, and the legendary braindance tech, Judy, was probably working in the basement as they spoke.
"Let's talk about the pay," Rhys said, getting straight to the point.
He didn't care about Sasha's future fate. While he and Susan clashed on principles, he had to admit she was often right. Her current policy was a perfect example: Mox first, always. The gang's original creed was to help the downtrodden and protect working girls and boys, but... this was Night City.
The Mox of today were business people, not a charity. You couldn't save everyone in this city; it was impossible. So for now, the Mox focused on protecting their own.
"An even split, of course," Maine said grandly. He snapped his fingers. "When it comes to eddies, I don't screw around. The payout for this gig is two hundred and fifty thousand. It's a four-person job: you, me, Sasha, and our techie, who's out drinking with his sister today."
Maine paused, then said, "You know what? Let's make it seventy thousand for you. I'll take a smaller cut. Your role is critical."
"Why so generous?" Rhys asked, looking at Maine.
Seventy thousand eddies... The credchip Susan had just given him, his entire savings from years with the Mox, was only a hundred and twenty thousand. Seventy K for one job was a serious score. Most gangers were lucky to have a few hundred eddies in their pockets, though that was mostly because they burned through cash as fast as they got it.
The in-game economy was obviously busted. V would bust their ass on a major gig and walk away with a few thousand eddies. You save the President of the NUSA and get pocket change? What a joke.
The real Night City was different. Hitting a big target, especially a corpo, meant a massive payday. Otherwise, why would so many people choose the merc life? The streets were full of gangers who'd made the jump.
"Generous? Choom, people in this city will kill each other over a few thousand eddies. I'm not being generous; your job is just that important. Plus, you're one of the Mox. I'm not looking to start trouble with you guys."
Maine gave Rhys a knowing wink. "The Mox don't start shit, but they don't back down from it either. Anyone who messes with the Mox pays in blood. Am I right?"
Korna, sipping her drink, let out a soft chuckle.
It was that very spirit that had allowed the Mox to survive in a meat grinder like Watson.
The Mox didn't have the deep-rooted traditions of a gang like the Valentinos, the corpo backing of the Tyger Claws or 6th Street, or the pure cyber-psychotic insanity of Maelstrom or the Scavs.
The Mox survived by sticking together and by not trying to claim turf, which kept them out of major gang wars. But if you pushed them, they would push back with everything they had. The gang had about three hundred members, and half of them were fitted with doll chips.
A doll chip... at its core, it was a high-end security system. So while on the job, a Mox might be a sweet, seductive beauty, but when the iron came out, they could become a capable fighter in an instant.
Of course, there was another key reason for their survival: their territory heavily overlapped with the Tyger Claws. Any other gang wanting to mess with the Mox in Watson would have to go through the Claws first. What was that old saying? No one wants another tiger sleeping on their mountain.
"What do I need to do, specifically?"
"You'll be working with Sasha. She's the only one on our crew who's good at stealth. Me and the others, we handle different areas. So, we need someone who can infiltrate and support her. Not just a ghost, but someone who can fight, to be her bodyguard."
Maine's smile vanished. He was completely serious now. "We've been looking for a long time, but we couldn't find the right fit."
"Most operators who are good at stealth are either netrunners or specialized agents, and you know what their rates are like. If we hired one of them, we'd end up with nothing. Who'd take a job for free? But then, you just popped up on our radar." Maine pointed at Rhys.
"One of our guys, Pilar—he's the techie who'll be splitting the pay with us—he comes to Lizzie's a lot. He heard about what you did, and after checking out the details, we came looking for you."
"I'm in," Rhys said, extending his hand.
Maine broke into a wide grin and shook it. "Delta!"
"Alright then, let's go grab a few drinks and talk through the op."
Rhys shook his head and stood up. He grabbed his baseball cap from the table, put it on, and pulled the brim low. "I've still got a shift. Just send me the plan in a message."
"Sure thing. No problem. I won't keep you," Maine said, not pressing the issue. He knew you couldn't win someone over with a few drinks and some smooth words. In Night City, betrayal was as common as breathing. Trust was the cheapest commodity, a bubble that popped at the slightest touch. Anyone who believed in it was a gonk.
Rhys left the booth and zipped up his blue jacket. He stepped outside Lizzie's Bar.
The air out here wasn't much better than inside the noisy bar. The stench of vomit, blood, and the rot of a rat that had been dead for days hit him like a physical blow.
"Is it done?" a pleasant voice asked beside him.
"Yeah. Korna found me a gig. Stealing data from a corpo with a crew of street mercs," Rhys said, leaning against the wall and looking at Rita, who was watching him intently from inside her pink jacket.
"How long will you be gone?" Rita asked, the concern clear in her voice.
Rhys sighed. "Who knows..."
Rita was silent for a moment. Then, with a small smile, she stepped closer to him and pulled an e-cigarette from her pocket. She took a light drag, then offered it to Rhys.
He shook his head. "I don't smoke."
"It's not like that one I tricked you with last time. It's not strong. It's fruit-flavored. Peach, I think. Not that I've ever eaten a real peach," Rita said, trying to persuade him.
"Still no," Rhys refused again. He hadn't replaced his organic lungs with chrome. The last time Rita had tricked him into taking a few puffs, his head had spun, and he'd felt sick. He hadn't touched an e-cig since.
Rita didn't push. She took another drag and blew a cloud of white vapor into the night air.
"Rhys," she said softly. "So, you've finally walked the path..."
Rhys stood beside her in silence, watching over the night, working his last security shift at Lizzie's.