Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077-Chapter 150

The car moved off, merging into the traffic.

Dexter seemed casual and offhand when he said, "You've caused quite a stir over the past half-year."

"It wasn't much. We know a few fixers, we're acquainted with Rogue, and we've been to Afterlife. Same as anyone else—just living day to day."

Dexter only chuckled at Leo's somewhat distant attitude; he didn't get angry.

"Looks like you're the strong-silent type, Mr. Leo. I can respect that. I'm not a fan of loudmouths either. But before we get down to business, I'd like to ask you a question."

"Would you rather live unknown, safe and sound for the rest of your life, only to die in bed with a catheter hooked up to you? Or die before you're thirty, but go down in history?"

Leo gave a faint smile.

"Dexter, that's where you're wrong."

"Oh? Care to explain?"

Leo spoke calmly. "In Night City, living safely into old age is already a luxury unknown nobodies can only dream of. Maybe you don't know this, but last year there were 7,103 homicide cases in Night City."

"Note that I'm talking about homicide, not shootings. If we include every body that ended up in a storm drain or was sealed in a drum and thrown into the bay, I wouldn't be surprised if the number jumped tenfold."

"And even ignoring the terrible law enforcement, the insane work hours and constant grind are enough to break both body and mind. Under that kind of pressure, you still dream of dying peacefully of old age?"

Dexter was momentarily stumped. He'd been trying to feel Leo out, but Leo didn't follow the usual script—Dexter had no response.

Of course, Leo wasn't wrong. Most average people in this city truly couldn't expect to die in bed, and with their financial constraints, even if they lived long enough to see themselves turn frail, they'd be left waiting to die at home. Getting into a hospital room was more than most could afford.

Still, this bit of offhand banter let Dexter see something about Leo's character:

—He hated people trying to pry information from him.

Dexter cleared his throat, trying to cover up the awkwardness. "Let's get back on track. I've got a major job lined up—lightyears beyond the standard gigs. Interested?"

"I'm listening."

"Ah, not so fast. I need to be sure you're up to the task before we move forward."

"My team and I are regulars at Afterlife. Isn't that enough?"

"I've been to Afterlife too. Doesn't mean much, because the mercs there range from nobodies to top-tier professionals. Only street punks and bottom feeders who can't even get through the door think Afterlife is on a whole other level."

"Fine, then lay out your requirements."

Dexter smiled, apparently satisfied with Leo's response. He took out a shard and handed it to Leo, who plugged it into his tactical goggles. An information display appeared.

"Same old story: Maelstrom punks bit off more than they could chew. They hijacked a Militech convoy and grabbed something they shouldn't have."

"One of the items was a small combat drone they call 'Flathead.'"

Leo thought for a moment. "Let me guess—this Flathead is tied to the big job you mentioned. Without it, the gig can't go forward?"

Dexter snapped his fingers. "Has anyone told you you're sharp, Mr. Leo? Exactly."

"Aren't you a fixer? Isn't this anything you handle on your own?"

Leo only smiled at Dexter's compliment, but he was curious why Dexter needed someone else to retrieve the Flathead. After all, fixers weren't corporate employees; they dealt with every kind of person under the sun. If Dexter needed the drone, he could simply buy it from Maelstrom, right? They weren't Scavs—though they were barely better. Still, if there was money in it, they wouldn't reject a straightforward sale.

"I can and I did. However, there is a new issue. I offered cash to one of their guys, Brick, but Maelstrom's new shot-caller is Royce. Get what I'm saying, or do I have to spell it out?"

"You're saying that Maelstrom changed leadership, and the new boss doesn't honor old deals?"

Dexter waved his hand. "I don't know whether he does or doesn't, which is why I need you to step in and get me that drone."

Leo had heard about Maelstrom's leadership change. Apparently, this Royce character was Brick's second-in-command until he seized power somehow. Brick's loyalists initially resisted, but Royce wiped them out. Now everyone in Maelstrom answered to Royce alone. Maybe they didn't all swear loyalty to him, but under the threat of his iron fist, nobody dared disobey.

Even if Dexter claimed he wasn't sure whether Royce would respect old arrangements, from everything Leo had heard, expecting Royce to honor them was about as realistic as expecting the megacorps to stop exploiting Night City's average citizens tomorrow. If Brick at least operated by the rules of the street, Royce was basically a Scav—he'd burn the buyer if it meant more profit.

"Oh, right. There's one more piece of intel you might find useful."

"Militech has a senior operations manager named Meredith Stout. She wants to find out which bastards leaked the convoy route to Maelstrom. She managed to nab a prime suspect, but twenty hours later, the guy hasn't said a word. No traitor identified."

"That woman must be tearing her hair out. I'm no corporate dog, but I know if they fail to recover that shipment, she's in for a world of trouble."

"That's all the intel I have. How you use it is up to you. Any other questions?"

Dexter finished talking and waited for Leo's response—or dismissal, really. He'd given him the data, so it was time to get the job done. Normally, that would have been it. But—

"I do have one question, actually. If we get the drone for you, how much are you paying us?"

Dexter froze. His fancy shades, donned to maintain a certain mystique, nearly slid down his nose. He hadn't expected Leo to respond like that.

Seeing Dexter's dumbfounded expression, Leo cracked a smile. "Listen, Dexter. You're not hoping to get this for free, are you? We're not some street punks; we're a mercenary team with a decent reputation at Afterlife."

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"If we go to all that trouble to grab your drone and then you say, 'I don't think we're a good fit, better luck next time. I'll call you if something else comes up...'"

Leo spread his hands. "Wouldn't we have wasted our time?"

Dexter regained his composure and pushed his shades back up. He instinctively reached for another cigar, but remembering Leo's dislike of smoke, he held back. "Interesting, Mr. Leo. You're not worried that being this direct might cost you your chance at a big payday?"

His words carried a hint of scrutiny, but Leo sounded calm. "There's more than one fixer in this city. Whatever you can lay your hands on, other fixers might too. Why should we tie ourselves to you alone?"

"Besides, you won't even reveal what this supposed major gig is. You think I'm some naive rookie who'll chase any pipe dream?"

Dexter's eyelid twitched. He specifically liked to meet in person so he could test the waters. T-Bug was someone he already knew. Jackie had come by a few days ago through T-Bug's introduction. Sure, Jackie had a solid build and was clearly a capable fighter, but the moment Dexter mentioned a big job, Jackie took the bait—just like every other merc in the city who dreamed of climbing to the top of Night City and wouldn't pass up any opportunity.

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