Cyberpunk: 2075

"You should wipe your face first."

After hesitating for a moment, Blanca handed Carl a handkerchief. "You can't really walk around looking like that."

"My face?"

Only then did Carl belatedly glance at his reflection in a shard of broken glass in the room. Seeing the state of his face, he frowned. "No wonder it felt all sticky."

He wiped his face with the handkerchief, cleaning off the blood before casually handing it back to Blanca.

"Thanks."

"Would any normal person wipe blood off their face with someone else's handkerchief and then just hand it right back?"

Blanca's eye twitched slightly as she looked at the still-dripping cloth in her hands. Considering how efficiently Carl had handled the job, she let it slide and took the handkerchief back. But then she watched as Carl started rummaging through the corpses of the Maelstrom members.

"What are you doing?"

"Grabbing cash and looting their guns to sell."

Had she never heard of mercenaries looting after a job?

Carl gave Blanca a sidelong glance. What kind of rich girl was this? The type who wouldn't even bother picking up money if it dropped on the ground?

Realizing she had asked a dumb question, Blanca felt like her brain wasn't working properly in front of this walking death machine.

Under Blanca's gaze, Carl efficiently looted everything of value in just ten minutes. Then, with nothing left to do, the two of them left the building.

On the way down, Carl grabbed whatever he could from the three bodies outside as well, before taking a look at the car they had arrived in. In the end, he decided against taking it.

Not that he wasn't tempted—he absolutely was. But modern cars all had built-in locking and authentication systems. Without the right hacking tools or advanced netrunning skills, he had no way of stealing it.

"Need me to give you a ride?"

As a courtesy for Blanca's quick and generous payment, Carl figured he might as well offer her a lift.

"No need, my car's here."

Carl watched as Blanca's cybernetic eyes flickered slightly, and shortly after, a Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor pulled up on autopilot, smoothly stopping in front of them.

[Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor]: One of the most prestigious models manufactured by Villefort. Its sleek and elegant design is highly favored by corporate elites, politicians, and gang leaders alike. Though prone to occasional breakdowns, its reinforced body, built in collaboration with Militech, ensures the safety of its occupants.

The driver-side door automatically swung open. Blanca stepped inside but didn't immediately close it. Instead, she rested one foot on the floor mat and the other on the pavement, turning back to Carl with a smile.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Her smile widened slightly. "Think of it as a sign of future cooperation."

So, it looked like this phone number was going to get dialed again in the future.

Carl had that thought but still shook his head, declining her offer. "I'll walk back."

"Alright then."

Seeing Carl refuse, Blanca didn't insist. She simply waved him off before settling into her seat, closing the door, and driving away. Carl, meanwhile, stood there, watching her car disappear into the distance.

A few minutes later, he let out a sigh.

"That car is at least 370,000 eddies… My commission is still way too low."

At first, Carl thought 50,000 eddies was a lot. But compared to the car his employer had just casually driven off in...

"Guess I still need to work harder."

Carrying his bags, he made his way south toward Watson. While walking, he absentmindedly browsed vehicle prices in his mind. In the process, he stumbled upon an advertisement.

"Do you dream of soaring through the stars? Want to set foot on the moon? Now, you don't need 10 million. You don't need 1 million. For just 250,000 eddies, you can make it happen. Don't just dream—act now!"

A moon trip?

Was traveling to the moon something casual nowadays?

That was... kind of tempting.

Carl had always had a slight fascination with space. Then, right beneath the price for a three-day, two-night lunar tour, he noticed the cost of permanently settling on the moon. The total fees, including paperwork and processing, came out to...

5 million eddies.

And that didn't even include the cost of buying a home on the moon.

Curious, Carl looked up the price of lunar real estate. He found a related report on NC54 News.

"A standard immigration housing unit costs 100 million eddies. While the price may seem steep, it's nothing compared to your safety." (Taken directly from in-game news)

100 million?

Carl did some quick math. He'd have to complete 2,000 jobs like Blanca's just to make that kind of money. Assuming 10 kills per mission, that meant he'd need to kill 20,000 people just to afford a home on the moon. Even wiping out all of Maelstrom wouldn't be enough. At that point, it'd be easier to just have a friendly chat with a corpo executive and negotiate a deal.

Good thing he had no plans to move to the moon. A short trip might be fun someday, though.

Not that it would make much of a difference.

Carl glanced at another NC54 News segment, where they covered so-called "safe and legal" lunar immigration options. Meanwhile, some corporations were tricking people into moving there under false pretenses, only to enslave them as cheap labor.

Corporations were the same no matter where you went.

Whether you were stuck on Earth under its gravity or seemingly free, drifting among the stars, you were still blinded by neon lights that outshone the sun itself.

As he left Watson's North Industrial District, Carl noticed more and more billboards and ads flashing around him. He thought for a moment and decided: tonight, he'd try eating a steak.

Maybe worm steak really did have six times the protein of real beef.

Aside from two Militech Saratoga SMGs, Carl had sold off all the other guns. Between that, his commission, and all the cash he looted, his balance had now reached an all-time high of nearly 60,000 eddies.

He figured he'd give one of the SMGs to Jackie and ask if either of them needed cyberware—he could cover the cost for now if they wanted something.

Having some extra eddies made Carl a lot more generous.

While considering how to spend his money, he stepped into a small restaurant and ordered something he had never tried before: a full rack of ribs, priced at a whopping 20 eddies.

It only took two minutes for the synthetic worm-based steak to arrive. The meat even had a decorative synthetic bone made from hydroxyapatite, mimicking the appearance of real ribs.

It actually looked about 80% like a real rack of ribs Carl had eaten before.

The real question was—how did it taste?

A few seconds later, Carl sliced off a soft piece of "beef", put it in his mouth, and chewed.

His face twisted in disgust.

Shit.

That was a waste of money.