Getting out of Dogtown was surprisingly smooth.
Maine and Dorio took the front seats due to their size. Ethan, Rebecca, and Pilar squeezed in back, the poor bastard from the Scav den lying at their feet.
The car raced toward the coast. Delivery point: those abandoned seaside resorts in Pacifica.
[MESSAGE]
[Mr. Hands]: The Dogtown client doesn't trust you, but I vouched for you. Did some matchmaking... hope that's not overstepping.
[Mr. Hands]: Being thorough here—I even contacted downstream for your crew. Your people should be handling the client's problem right now.
[Mr. Hands]: Anything else, contact this regular client directly. I shouldn't interfere further. Best of luck.
Ethan read the messages Hands had just sent to "Cole." His gaze darkened.
So far, everything seemed to be going smoothly.
Hands had even negotiated pricing on the new fixer's behalf—thoughtfully directing the edgerunners.
And strictly speaking, this job wasn't Dogtown business. It was outsiders paying to extract someone. Though the route went from Dogtown to Pacifica, by Hands' tight-fisted nature, he shouldn't have pushed this to Ethan.
After all, yesterday's agreement was: fair competition inside Dogtown after two months. Business outside Dogtown was open competition right now.
Something felt off. Ethan couldn't pinpoint what exactly.
Then the client contact came through. Unknown number.
Ethan eyed the [?] caller ID, staying alert as he watched the road outside.
His eyes lit up with incoming calls. The mysterious contact tried three times. Ethan didn't answer.
He just texted instead.
[?]: Who is this?
[Cole]: Hands handed me the job. To be precise—Dogtown now has two problem-solvers. You should know Hands temporarily transferred business to me.
[?]: I know. Get your people to do the job right. Money's being audited by the company, so it went to the Scav. Whatever the Scav pays you—Hands knows.
[Cole]: My people just need to deliver the target? I'm guessing Hands knows, but he didn't tell me. You understand—I need to verify the process.
[?]: For example?
[Cole]: For example: Why isn't this standard Scav-ransom pricing? Any complications? I need transparent cooperation.
[?]: You'll need mercs who don't hold grudges for this one. The target has company secrets. Your dispatched crew needs our corporate netrunner to perform a memory wipe. Of course, this doesn't concern you, the new fixer.
[Cole]: Should've mentioned this upfront. Think any Night City merc wants a netrunner digging around in their brain?
[Cole]: You went to Hands? Expected Hands' people to get memory-wiped too?
[?]: Hands' people—no. Yours are new. I don't trust them.
[?]: And another thing—what the fuck? You're just a middleman broker, understand? Asking so many questions... you're out here competing for business like this? Give me a break! Be professional.
Ethan's expression stayed calm, but his mind raced for solutions.
Playing a role in this game has risks, Ethan thought grimly.
From a fixer's perspective, this deal wasn't bad—not his brain getting plugged. But for him and Maine's crew, memory wipes were absolutely unacceptable.
Instant mutiny. The crew would assume their boss sold them out—corp netrunner incoming.
And from this new fixer's perspective: corp dog looks down on the upstart nobody.
As for why Hands' people wouldn't be treated this way by Biotechnica—it was probably a matter of power.
Any fixer who could make a name in Night City had something backing them up.
Hands clearly hadn't told this guy that "Cole" was actually Arasaka.
But now, Cole the new fixer was being treated like some desperate nobody just trying to eat.
Night City's survival rules—Ethan understood them before he even transmigrated.
Why did some fixers end up with miserable fates, while the evergreen power players kept their seats comfortably?
If you had no connections, no corporation backing you up, everything was empty talk.
Take fixers like Hands and Wakako. Hands wasn't just connected to South America—he came from corporate upper management himself, and could piss in the same pot as Hansen. Naturally he sat secure in Dogtown.
Wakako was even more obvious. Several of her husbands were Tyger Claw higher-ups, and she was no different herself. She was just old now, looking for an easier gig.
A massive web of interests was woven throughout this city. If you tried to be a fixer without any backing, relying only on smooth talk—your ending would be tragic.
As the saying goes: the central pillar of a scale is the most stable. Clients and mercs had to balance in the fixer's hands. That required absolute leverage.
Hands, oh Hands.
Ethan shook his head. Hands' personality was becoming clearer in his mind.
He was using this client to probe "Cole"—the fixer who'd appeared out of nowhere. At the same time, Hands kept his own hands clean. He wanted to see just how capable Cole really was.
In other words, Hands wanted to see if Cole would push back.
Given his nature, this probably wasn't the only thing he was hiding.
"Maine!"
Just as Ethan was lost in thought, Rebecca looked down at the man lying on the floor mat and shouted.
The guy they'd just pulled from ice water had no clothes—just a jacket for warmth. But while everyone was lost in their own thoughts, he'd started convulsing.
Maine turned. "Under the right seat cushion—painkillers, whatever. Adrenaline or MaxDoc—give him something! Don't let him die in the car!"
Ethan grabbed the MaxDoc from Rebecca and pressed it to the man's face.
Pssshht—
His chest heaved violently. Eyes flew open.
"Shit! This guy's about to flatline!"
The car surged forward. Maine wanted to stomp the accelerator through the floor!
Pilar crouched awkwardly on the back seat, craning his neck to see if the guy was dying.
The man's lips moved. Ethan pushed Pilar's head aside and leaned close to the man's face.
"Secure... Your... Soul..."
The man suddenly grabbed Ethan's collar. "Don't... take... me..."
Ethan watched quietly as the hand slid from his collar.
So that's how it is... He made a call.
"Maine! Scavs on our tail!"
Dorio checked the rearview. Several graffiti-tagged vehicles were speeding up behind them. One van was nearly alongside!
Ethan snapped out of his call, turning to look back.
Five more Scav vehicles tailing them!
Scavs never change. That Agata bastard is probably counting eddies in some corner, laughing his ass off.
Sell the same goods twice. Classic Scav move.
"Light 'em up!"
Pilar howled. Weapons clicked to ready inside the car...