[TN:Three chapter for missing two chapters last week]
Two of them walked into the event area, and most people around were talking about the Dewdrop Motel shooting.
Everyone had heard that blast — so loud people thought Santo Domingo had blown up like Watson District, making everyone jittery.
Besides that, there were other odd scenes.
"Thank your boyfriend for his contribution to American unification. He died heroically in the MLK Street terror incident.
After our investigation, you're this kid's last relative. Tsk, based on his rank, the death benefit is 500 eddies.
Did you get it? Huh?!"
V saw a 6th Street member handing out "death benefits" by the roadside. Looks like quite a few 6th Street boys died at the Dewdrop Motel.
But death benefits?
The 6th Street soldier was getting impatient — for an obvious reason: this "widow" had a man standing beside her.
When the woman heard the news, she looked struck by lightning, then turned around crying and buried herself into the man's arms, not answering the question.
The soldier suddenly roared: "Are you deaf?! I asked if you got it! You filthy bitch!"
The man and woman were both startled by the shout, and the woman's tears even sucked back into her tear ducts — a special feature of cheap cyberware on her face: getting scared could cause tear duct backpressure.
"I heard you!" The woman wiped her eyes. "I'll live well with this money, but how long can 500 eddies last?"
How long can 500 last? Good question.
In Night City's prices, it's more than enough to buy a life, but for daily living? It won't go far.
Strangely, the man's face also showed genuine grief. He clenched his teeth and patted the woman's head: "Don't worry, darling. I'll join 6th Street and take care of you."
"But you can't even hold a gun steady."
"Then I'll learn — I'm joining 6th Street!"
The man suddenly straightened his back and looked at the soldier. The latter froze — he'd just been thinking whether to beat this cheating pair up after handing out the benefit.
But now the man was one of them.
So he laughed meaningfully, patted the man's shoulder, and shoved him an old rusty pistol — who knows if it could still fire:
"Hahaha... interesting. Here, take this gun. Kill a punk sometime and then report to recruitment."
The man held the gun tightly and told the woman in his arms firmly, "Don't worry. I'll work hard for our family."
The two kissed passionately, sunlight shining on them, though after passing through the black smoke, the light looked a bit unreal.
"What a trashy soap opera." V was dumbfounded. "I thought the guy was her dad at first."
"Too messy, too messy. Heywood wouldn't be like this." Jackie shook his head. "The American spirit now includes sharing wives, huh"
The two entered a small shack. Morton sat inside — he would appear outside when the time was right.
"You two... where's the third?"
"The event hasn't started yet. Some things need prep — by the way, you really hand out death benefits?"
"Of course." Morton snorted and lit a cigarette. "Soldiers dying deserve benefits, don't they? 6th Street is a legitimate military group."
"Yeah, looks legit. I saw a woman collect the benefit and get a new husband on the spot, and now her new husband just joined you guys too."
Morton paused, then shook his head: "Not my business. As long as he contributes to 6th Street, that's fine by me."
V didn't say more, shrugged, and sat on the couch opposite of Morton.
"Couldn't you pick a better place for this event?"
"What's wrong here? It's fine." Morton took a deep drag. "Sure, it's not as nice as Vista Del Rey, but Valentinos took that place, so what can you do?"
Vista Del Rey was now a complicated zone — Valentinos operated there, NCPD patrolled too, and 6th Street members showed up sometimes, but they didn't have much business there.
It was mostly some punks and street rats stirring up trouble.
But long ago, Vista Del Rey was where 6th Street had made its name.
He glanced at Jackie, who looked like he wanted to speak: "Alright, I know what you want to ask. You're young—you don't know how it was back then."
V showed an interested expression: "So tell us?"
"Me? I'll tell you — Vista Del Rey owes 6th Street big time! If I hadn't brought my boys to clean up crime, it'd still be lawless.
Once it calmed down, Valentinos and NCPD teamed up to kick us out. Fucking corruption."
Jackie looked unconvinced.
Valentinos were a blood-tied gang — so even though he wasn't with them anymore, he couldn't help reacting.
It didn't match what he'd heard.
"If you guys were so good, why'd you get kicked out? I heard the locals signed a petition to the NCPD about you."
"Heh." Morton sneered. "You believe that? Bottom line — no money. Look at this gun."
He pulled a smart assault rifle from a box behind him, painted in American colors.
"See? Nokota's advanced prototype, 'Divided We Stand.' Smart chip can lock onto five enemies. Once bullets hit, they trigger chemical corrosion. Impressive, huh?
[TN:Honestly, one of the worst iconic in the game]
I'm putting this up as the final prize for the shooting contest."
V and Jackie didn't quite get it — five targets? So what? Their AI lock-on system could handle more than five on any day.
The air froze for a second. V nodded: "Yeah, impressive."
Morton noticed a hint of disdain in V's tone... maybe he imagined it.
So he continued: "We're having tough times now, but digging up a few boxes of quality weapons isn't hard.
Back then? We had none of this shit. People say 6th Street is Militech's lapdog — bullshit!
I started with a goddamn old revolver! Why didn't Militech help back then? Because they didn't care — I made the name, then Militech came to us!"
He chuckled, recalling those early days.
At the beginning, 6th Street wore armor sewn from scavenged leather and used junkyard guns.
Vista Del Rey, Santo Domingo... every day there was murder, robbery, theft. Ordinary people who wanted to live longer had only one way — to hide at home and do nothing.
Then they'd starve to death.
"So, how did you get forced out?" V asked.
Morton laughed at himself: "Simple — no money. Once the streets were safe, people had to come out and earn a living.
Valentinos had more money, more connections, more people. They ran casinos, sold top-tier drugs — they had money, had fun.
Once they got rich, they paid off some NCPD cops, and the cops helped them sweep us out.
Back then, 6th Street — and I — had no big corp backing.
That's when I realized: I needed money. Lots of money. No money means no weapons. No weapons...
Heh, see the slogan? The American Dream — it costs money."
"Then... you started doing business with Militech?"
Morton nodded calmly: "Yeah. No one looked after these places, so I did. But that takes money and gear. You can't defend people with bare fists.
Because muggers and killers all have guns.
Militech gave me gear, let me make money, let me do what I want — so yeah, I believe in the American Dream."
The room fell silent for a moment. V picked up a beer on the table and cracked it open: "Sounds noble. So reselling overpriced vaccines is part of the plan too?"
"Yep." Morton popped open a beer too. "No big philosophy. I needed money — bad.
People here need vaccines, so I find them. Price? Not my call. I didn't make them.
If I can't even keep myself alive, why the hell would I sacrifice anything?"
He chuckled and looked at Jackie, who seemed deep in thought: "Big guy, you look like a Valentino. If you'd stayed, maybe you'd be their boss now.
But you're not cut out for the gang life, I can see that — so back to business, you two."
"Actually, three." V pointed to her head. "There's another one in here."
"Alright, three."
"Oh, right — we also brought in some good mercs. You'll have to pay them. Normal rates."
Morton lowered his beer, annoyed: "More? How many?"
"Three, I think." V shrugged. "They're already drinking outside."
Inside, Morton was cursing inside: Who taught you to break the mood every time?!
He calmed himself and chose his words carefully.
"Fine... still three. This job's up to you now. You're Night City's best, the pros.
6th Street, and my life — especially my life — depends on you."
Jackie popped open a beer, too. As he raised the can, he was still thinking.
V nudged him — she'd just gotten a message from Leo.
[Leo: A confident smile helps earn the client's trust. No one wants to hire a merc full of doubts.]
Jackie dropped those thoughts and showed a professional smile.
"Heh, you don't need to say it. Pro mercs — mission accomplished."