Interdimensional Scientist, Starting from Cyberpunk Chapter 342: A Different Kind

Walking into the Afterlife, a wave of stares from rcenaries locked onto the three of them. The scanners updated their profiles again.

Outsiders may not know, but the locals certainly did—these three were notorious. Everyone hoped they wouldn't run into them on a job.

The place was more crowded than usual. Proximity to the source ant early access to information—outsider rcs couldn't co here to get work, so the locals hoarded the leads.

But the money here wasn't easy to earn.

"I told you to get your ass over here! If you don't co in for surgery, I swear I'll shoot you myself!"

"What? You're barely holding on? Just you wait, you bastard!"

Inside an open VIP room, Leo saw a man on the verge of death lying on the table.

His neck had been reinforced with cyberware, but it had been utterly mangled—clearly by so kind of high-temperature blade. The port was blackened and cut clean.

His teammates were gathered around. So crouched on the ground, others had lost limbs. The captain was frantically on the phone by the table, trying to contact any ripperdoc he knew.

But…

The guy on the table wasn't going to make it. That was Leo's verdict.

He made his way to Rogue's private booth. The Queen of Afterlife was already waiting.

Clearly, she knew exactly what had just happened outside. As soon as Leo walked in, she said:

"The guy you just killed? Called Arctic Wolf. Squad na: Tundra Hunters. From Oslo. Fairly well-known over there."

Rogue already assud he was dead.

V plopped down on the couch and grabbed a bottle of tequila from the table.

"Didn't seem like much. Just so dirty tricks, that's all."

Rogue gestured for a nearby associate to bring over a chip, placing it in front of Leo.

"They're not that simple. Take a look if you're interested."

With a mindset of always learning and expanding his database, Leo never passed up a datachip.

This one contained confird intel on the Tundra Hunters.

They were a small-ti squad, operating for just over a year, mostly around Northern Europe.

Norway, despite being a small country, held decent standing in the cyberpunk world thanks to nationalization and rich oil resources.

While ethanol-2 had largely replaced oil as an energy source, oil was still valuable industrially. Wealth brought complications.

There were plenty of jobs—most revolving around oil extraction rights. Most of the ti, the employer was SovOil.

Due to harsh working environnts, their cyberware had to withstand cold and rugged terrain, sacrificing space for bullets and other supplies in favor of extra fuel.

This led to a preference for lee and compact weapons. If ranged combat was necessary, they used vehicles.

They had modified their cyberware for Night City, but clearly weren't adapting well.

The cold-weather data would be a good database addition—but not useful anyti soon.

Leo also noted a pattern: the two rc groups he'd encountered from outside the city both ca from Europe—specifically, Northern Europe.

"Definitely not simple—just hot-headed."

Rogue nodded slightly. "You talk like an old man sotis. Like you're in your 70s or 80s, just like ."

Leo shrugged. "Just stating facts. Youth doesn't always an recklessness. I'm young—but he was the reckless one."

"Any news around the city? I know a lot of outsiders have arrived recently."

Rogue made a strange face. They were reckless?

They didn't blow up the corporate plaza.

"This whole situation—I figure it started because of you guys."

It all started with a major job—

Leo's target had been DNA-editing equipnt from Biotechnica. He got it.

And escaped by setting up a perfect fall guy: Faraday.

Faraday was investigating the Nightingale Project. Leo had made himself out to be a brave, foolish rookie, even standing up for the Strays.

Now? No one really suspected he was the "Lizard Man." The problem was, the stolen Biotechnica device had created a powerful bio-weapon.

"Biotechnica invented ethanol-2 wheat. PetroChem and SovOil monopolize its sale. They don't care how many Biotechnica execs die—but tech leaks gave them an excuse."

"An excuse to enter Night City."

V frowned. "But we don't know anything about ethanol-2 wheat tech. We were just doing a job."

"On the surface," Rogue said, looking at Leo. "Really nothing?"

Leo shook his head.

He really didn't. Ethanol-2 wheat distribution was tightly controlled. DNA-editing thods were completely classified.

To get it, you'd need to either physically break into top-security corporate sites, or engage in full-on netwar.

SovOil might not know that. But they could pretend not to.

"It's not up to you to decide what's true. You get what I'm saying?"

V realized: "So they twist the story, just to muscle in and grab a piece of Night City."

Jackie asked, "But what part do they want?"

"Good question," Rogue said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "Everyone knows these corps want world domination. No one knows what they actually want now."

"To find out, you'd have to ask the CEOs themselves."

Night City was small, but it had plenty of valuable things.

Since Leo's activities started, Biotechnica had been wrecked—executives killed, reputation tanked, and a lizard escaped from their lab.

Militech got smashed downtown—high casualties, checkpoint officers dead, helicopter downed, and their Centaur chs went wild.

Arasaka got wrecked by a netattack, and even lost a piece of the Soulkiller tech.

Kang Tao didn't seem hit—publicly. But ever since that smuggling job from Atlanta, they'd been under silent suspicion from both Arasaka and Militech.

Finally, SovOil picked a fight with PetroChem, using the Biotechnica leak as an excuse. Troops couldn't co, but they could send in "immigrants," right?

All five major corps had run into serious, headline-making trouble.

Maybe SovOil wasn't the only one wanting in. Local corps were wounded—plenty of secrets leaked. What corp wouldn't want a peek at the competition?

Rogue continued: "The good news is—rich folks are willing to pay now. The bad news—it's more dangerous.

And like that idiot outside, a lot of these out-of-towners don't play by the rules."

"Think we'll run into anyone famous?" Jackie asked the big question. "You know…Boa Boa, Morgan Blackhand...?"

Rogue smirked. "Hard to say. But if you do, you gonna ask for an autograph?"

"Of course not."

"They're rcs, not celebrities. If you face them, you won't be happy."

Fair point.

People worshiped those legends not because they were friendly—but because they'd done insane things.

rcs had employers. If you faced one in battle, it was life or death.

Morgan Blackhand was worshiped for assaulting Arasaka Tower—but his employer was Militech, another shady corporation.

Who's to say so legendary rc isn't already hired?

Jackie used to idolize them—but now that dream felt closer. Less fantastical.

Rogue looked at Leo. "Things are ssy now. After what happened at Afterlife, no one will risk barging in. But elsewhere? Who knows. You should stay active lately. Not just for ."

Leo gave her a long look. "If the conditions are right... I was thinking the sa."

"Good. Smart young man. Talking to you's easy. If there's trouble, co to . I've got your back.

You help , I help you. That's how Night City works."

Just then, a rc stepped in and whispered sothing to Rogue.

At the sa ti, Leo's phone buzzed—it was an old acquaintance.

[Contact: Morton "Sergeant"]

[Morton: Got a job. Our place in Santo Domingo got hit!]

[Morton: Urgent. Get over here now!]

Rogue turned to Leo. "Looks like you got the call too. The 6th Street's place got trashed. Whoever did it is now demanding protection paynts.

I heard you helped Sergeant deal with a traitor. Seems like he didn't finish the job."

"Interesting guy," Jackie chuckled. "Now he wants us to clean up his ss?"

"Why not? You're the best in town."

Night City never gave without taking. Technically, the Burger King squad's only hostile encounter with 6th Street was business-related.

They had no beef with Morton—and honestly, they owed him. 6th Street funded a lot of their early ops.

Leo stood up.

Now that he knew what this was about, he had to help.

Night City was overrun with corps. So control was needed.

"This feels weird," Jackie said. "We used to fight 6th Street tooth and nail. Now we help them."

"We're rcs," Leo shrugged.

"Just working for money?"

"Of course not. We're a different kind—" He patted Jackie on the shoulder. "We work for ourselves. That's why, in this business, we don't have competitors. Get in the car. I'll explain on the way."

The three left the booth. Jackie suddenly pulled out a little book at the door:

"THE SOLO'S MANUAL" – Author: Morgan Blackhand.

V spotted it. "You're not seriously hoping for an autograph, right?"

"No, no! I just thought... maybe I'll write my own one day."

Watching them leave, Rogue was struck by a rare emotion.

She signaled her staff for a drink and said:

"Hearing people talk about your old man—doesn't that stir you up a bit?"

The man chuckled. "A little. But that's not ."

[TN: Morgan Blackhand has a son!?!?!]

Rogue smiled and began sending ssages to her contacts.

[Rogue: I told you they'd act. I can see it. Burger King isn't the kind to kill and not clean up.]