"Putting on my beloved little sunglasses, today I’ll go et that young girl from the zeros generation."
Walking down the building, Lin Miao humd a tune, feeling pretty good, his stride beca much more swaggering. He seed to be blending into the atmosphere of Night City since everything was moving according to his plan.
It’s the seventh day since waking up, and during these days, he wasn’t just staying in the room waiting to die, but was out gathering information about the city, gangs, middlen, and companies. Of course, he wasn’t asking people directly like an idiot; instead, he sat at small stalls and restaurants, listening to others chat while eating, watching TV, asking shopkeepers, and observing the city’s situation.
He rode the subway, only visiting crowded places; he avoided alleys with fewer people. And the handgun never left his side, casually using his cyber eye to snap footage for a promo. Night City may lack many things, but gunfights, car races, and gang wars are plenty. And thanks to its unique aesthetic, everything — people, cars, and neon billboards — is colorful. When it rains at night, it has a certain charm.
These strenuous days were rewarding, he learned that he lived in Santo Domingo district of Night City, in a ga-tower H4, which is controlled by the Sixth Street Gang. Most of its mbers are retired veterans from the Fourth Corporate War, claiming to be dissatisfied with the NCPD’s incompetence, they ford a team aiming to protect the Scenic Area’s safety. But truthfully, they are no different from other gangs, indulging in smuggling, robbery, extortion, car theft, and gang fights.
Let’s just say... at least they have a decent appearance and slogan.
However, Lin Miao’s target for selling goods wasn’t them, but Westbrook in the north part of Santo Domingo, specifically Japan Street.
The most renowned middleman in the area, Ogata Wagako.
Middlen are a bunch of folks navigating between companies, rcenary punks, and gang mbers. But Lin Miao didn’t trust the small ones; who knows if they’d betray him for money. The bigger ones care about their reputation, their conduct won’t be too ugly.
The company’s gloves, rcenary intel, a good place to take jobs and earn money, having intricate relationships with various gangs and major companies both overtly and covertly, they thrive everywhere.
All underground transactions in Night City must pass through them. Trying to bypass them and establish private channels ans asking for death.
They aren’t hard to find, the problem is not everyone can contact them. Even if you find them, you may not get acknowledged.
For instance, Ogata Wagako and Rogers — everyone knows they are in Japan Street’s underground Pachinko and the Afterlife nightclub. But if they don’t want to see you, shouting till hoarse will only get you thrown out, possibly without even reaching the door, not to ntion Lin Miao who’s a stranger, they might completely ignore him. Ordinary middlen are everywhere, even in the ga-tower, but Lin Miao doesn’t trust these small ones, fearing they might be greedy.
As for those hard-to-et ones, using the right thod always creates opportunities.
And Lin Miao’s thod is simple, find a vagrant, hand him 2 euros, asking him to carry a cardboard box to the Pachinko’s entrance then leave.
What if he runs off with the box?
See this gun in my arms?
No one would refuse money, even if it’s 2 euros, which can keep a vagrant alive for two more days.
The box contained nothing but 2 kilograms of sealed frozen chicken, and a business card Lin Miao paid 5 euros to customize, carrying his contact information.
Sure enough, leaning against the railing, Lin Miao watched the vagrant leave the box at the casino’s door. The security chased him away, cautiously poked open the box wrapped with a long blade, took a couple of glances, then stabbed it twice, confirming no threat, then promptly carried the box inside the casino.
What’s inside isn’t much, but soone working security under the middleman shouldn’t be a fool.
Within five minutes, Ogata Wagako’s call ca through, only she requested a face-to-face talk, which Lin Miao had intended all along, at the Pachinko parlor. However, Lin Miao deliberately made Ogata Wagako wait two days, knowing the items in the backpack wouldn’t spoil.
After preparing everything, he leisurely strolled to Japan Street.
The Pachinko parlor is located in the underground mall of ga-tower H8, similar to Lin Miao’s residence, even in dayti, it’s gloomy here. Sunlight struggles to penetrate the layers of high-rise buildings. Several towers surround a massive four-handed tallic statue, with projected cherry blossom trees withering and blooming in the planter.
Just stepping down the stairs, Lin Miao slled the strong broth aroma, the underground mall filled with many Japanese snack shops — sushi, ran, grilled skewers — all are here, priced 5-15 euros a serving. Though they look like real at, they are synthetic at. During his first visit, he deliberately asked the owner of an izakaya with its store.
"Do you sell real at here?"
The response was
"Are you joking with , friend? That’s not sothing we can afford. If you want real at, go to high-end nightclubs or hotels, they have it, though I don’t know if you can accept the prices."
This confird Lin Miao further that real at, even frozen at, is definitely a luxury, highly sought after.
Passing through the snack street further inside, the light dimd further, but the shop stalls and billboards on both sides of the street were full of pink and red neon lights. Provocative, sexy promotional posters and 3D projections boldly displayed at the storefront, through the windows one could see ridiculous things inside, exaggerated adult toys, custors smiling stupidly in braindance experiences, bold dancers, street-standing sex dolls soliciting...
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