Woodhaven Street was becoming crowded, and the pungent scent of char in the air was being overtaken by the smell of cheap alcohol while the grease from synthetic meat wafted in the alcohol-laden air.
Although the food was cheap, the atmosphere on the site was surprisingly lively, and the diners were genuinely happy.
The reason was simple, in Night City 15% of the population earned less than 2,000 Euros a year, with a monthly income not exceeding 170 Euros, and more than half of these people were concentrated in Saint Domingo.
The cheapest food available on the market, like the Pink Tortilla XXL, cost 10 Euros per serving, which was more expensive than many bullets, and a bucket of fried chicken chunks from a fast-food restaurant would set you back upwards of 30 Euros.
Street food made from black market synthetic meat or other cheap ingredients might be a bit cheaper, but not by much.
All in all, 170 Euros wasnât even enough to rent a decent house, and each month it was necessary to scavenge for food one or two times.
There were many reasons for these distorted prices, wars between corporations, unification wars, and various financial crises and inflation resulting from wars...
One could say that since the beginning of the 21st century, the world had been in a state of frightening inflation, with prices of basic necessities rising particularly sharply.
Although no one knew what had gotten into the Six Street Gang, free food and drinks?
It was almost unimaginable.
Even disregarding the homeless, the average annual income for the entire population of Saint Domingo was only about 3,000 to 4,000 Euros, so a meal given away for free was still not something they could simply overlook.
To these people, every single penny was worth splitting in two to spend.
"Awesome!" a man missing an arm downed his drink with his remaining mechanical arm, "The American Dream is fucking awesome!"
The soldier standing guard next to him laughed, "Feels good, doesnât it?"
"Awesome." The man was emboldened by the alcohol and, swaying his head, patted the soldierâs shoulder and gave a thumbs up, "The American Dream... This is it."
A member of the Six Street Gang handed him a small energy wallet, "Watch this, charge it up and bring it back, and you can exchange it for more drinks."
"Thereâs such a good deal? Go ahead! Anything to do with the Sixth Level Version... itâs my thing! I dare not kill, but stealing electricity, Iâm your guy!"
Then, with a slap, the man collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Lying on the ground, he kept mumbling gibberish, and even a translation software couldnât decipher what he was saying.
From the rooftop, V saw this and chuckled, "Already passed out after just starting to drink?"
[Lille: That man wonât live much longer, his nerve endurance has already made it difficult for him to stay sober on a normal day.]
"So being drunk means bad nerves?"
[Lille: To be precise, being able to process alcohol and whether the body can secrete certain catalysts are related. Youâll feel terrible and dizzy before the alcohol is broken down.]
[Lille: But at the same alcohol concentration, whether one collapses from drunkenness is very much related to nerve strength. Itâs normal for a person with weakened nerves to fall immediately upon drinking.]
"So is what weâre doing considered poisoning?"
[Lille: No, he wouldnât have lived long even without the drink. This is more like treating him to a feast before his death.]
No one knew whether the man passed out on the ground had just recovered from an illness, was suffering from nerve breakdown due to excessively long work hours, or had undergone some other trauma.
All that was known was that he couldnât even hold his liquor now.
The people here had a hysterical sense of dissonance when relaxing, as if they wanted to drown themselves in the pleasure of alcohol and the satisfaction of meat in their stomachs.
But in reality... it was just a bit of alcohol and synthetic meat.
Jack had become somewhat silent by now, just watching the lively scene on the field without speaking and silently eating his meat.
Soon David arrived at Vâs "table" with two Hackers from the team, Lucy and Qi Weiâ
More precisely, the "barrel", where beer and synthetic meat were placed on a rusty metal barrel, with a canister next to it holding fuel, and a wire mesh on top that served as a simple grill.
"This task is a guarding job; originally it was a long-term mission, but we donât have that much time, so it turned into what it is now," said V, getting straight to the point as she began to explain the division of labor for this job.
But as she started to speak, she felt something eerie: tasked with these things, her whole body became uncomfortable.
Fortunately, she was just conveying Lilleâs intentions; reading off the notes was all that was needed.
David sat up and nodded attentively.
[Data transmission in progress...]
"We have four main defense areas, the first being above us, the highway over Peizhuo Petrochemicalâs dam, but that place is covered by another group."
The Peizhuo Petrochemical dam area is considered a separate large zone, with open terrain and no cover, making it almost impossible for enemies to sneak up to the dam and snipe from there.
With the main venue at Woodhaven Street as the center, one splits northward into three regions. The region directly to the north is the deepest, while the other two regions are more like small fans. Part of the fan-shaped area consists of buildings in the urban zone, and the rest is unfinished construction sites and other wastelands.
The urban areas can be monitored by Hackers who take control of already hacked traffic cameras, cars, and other smart devices, but wastelands without surveillance cameras have to be patrolled by people.
These two districts were the ones David was in charge of patrolling with his team.
"In a nutshell, you patrol, and if you see any suspicious characters, shoot them on sight."
Lucy raised her hand, "I want to know, who are the enemies? Are they dangerous?"
"Like you, mercenaries, probably quite skilled. As for whether or not theyâre dangerous..." V paused for a moment, looking at Lucy curiously, "I remember the first time we met, you robbed Lille...Burger King, didnât you find that dangerous?"
In Vâs memory, when Lucy was a thief, David was still a model student; now David thinks about pulling off a big job every day, so why has this girl seemed to become more timid?
According to Lilleâs words, wasnât Lucy the street kid, and David the exemplary citizen?
Lucy felt a bit embarrassed: Who knew that stealing a chip on the subway could turn out to be from a big shot!
"...That was an accident."
As to why she had become more cowardly...
David casually wrapped his arm around Lucy, grinning from ear to ear, "Donât worry, although saying nothing will go wrong is a bit absolute, we can definitely handle it!"
"Sigh... weâre in charge of Sector Two, letâs head over and check out the place."
Lucy covered her forehead, picked up two bottles of alcohol and synthetic meat from the ground, and they both left the place.
Qi Wei remained there, looking at the backs of the departing couple, seemingly lost in thought.
V glanced at her, "Those two seem pretty close, huh?"
"Close indeed, theyâve already slept together."
"Oh~ That explains it." V shook a can of beer, "I can see youâre seasoned. Are you very familiar with those two?"
Qi Wei scratched her head and sat down on a broken wall nearby, "The girl was brought in by me. She doesnât seem to be like us, raised on the streets.
The first time I saw her, she was just a girl with no direction, knowing some hacking skills but nothing else.
Latter on, somehow, she became motivated, as if she had found a goal.
Just like you are now."
"What do you mean?" V pointed at himself, not quite understanding the ambiguous statement, "What do you mean by âjust like us nowâ?"
"It means... full of vigor. Can I ask, what drives you to do all those crazy things?"
"Why?" V thought for a moment...
If she had to say, the dream that had followed her since childhood was simple: having seen so many amazing things, she just wanted to be the coolest person in Night City, to show off in style.
But saying that seemed a bit cheap.
[V: Did you hear me? Iâm asking you!]
[Lille: Me? Wasnât he asking you? I started out purely for survival! Thatâs still one of my goals now.]
The external brain refused to provide a satisfactory answer, and V fell into thought.
Then Jack spoke up, looking at the people celebrating wildly in the arena, a sudden realization hit him: wasnât this his favorite kind of, awesome Thursday?
Free drinks, good buddies gathered together having a great time.
To be able to treat people to meals, to be respected, that was his goalâto be a man of substance.
So he naturally said, "Of course, to be a man of substance, to be a significant figure."
A plain answer, but... V felt that this answer was strangely similar to her own thoughts.
Qi Wei looked towards the "big shot", her gaze shifting emotionlessly towards the towering skyscrapers in the distance, "Thatâs what everyone in Night City thinks."
"What, you got something to say?"
"I just think, people like us, called âpunks,â are either escapers ashamed of their past or dreamers who lose themselves chasing grand ambitions."
Hearing this, V snorted with laughter, finishing her beer in one gulp, disdainfully said,
"That sounds like a loserâs confession. Once youâve made enough money, you wonât have those thoughts. You should hang out with us more; guarantee youâll make enough."
"Thatâs true, itâs just a bit too thrilling."
"Alright, time to get to work."
As he finished speaking, the Six Street Gang connected the power to the surrounding speakers, the volume of the raucous rock music increased, driving the atmosphere to a climax, and the sergeantâs voice rang outâ
"You little brats, all fattened up by the American dream, huh?"