Chapter 3: The Middleman Must Learn to Show Off

Cyberpunk World, the original internet was blown up by the legendary hacker Bartmos. Any hacker trying to access the initial internet would be attacked by AI.

So the current network model is that people access the network through local networks provided by network monitors, so on a network scale, everyone is isolated.

Atlanta belongs to the Rust Belt Network Administration Zone. If you want to access data in the Taiping State area, which belongs to Night City, you need some level of clearance to do it.

This area encompasses the central and eastern regions of the United States, covering a vast array of colossal buildings, with Atlanta being the urban core. It's advanced and stable, but before V came here, he only knew it was a bustling place.

In fact, apart from corporate dogs, no one frequently moves between different network domains. Communication of information in this world is simultaneously broad and narrow, technologically advanced, yet narrowly applied in practice.

The way Lille rambled on made V think highly of this pure physical human—

After all, street kid V was just a rogue with no proper education.

Seeing V's reaction, Lille silently punched the air in celebration of the success of the second phase, and the third phase was also yielding some results.

The first phase of successful communication is getting the other person willing to listen to you, the second phase is when they start asking questions, the third phase is when they start thinking about what you are saying—

And you know they will eventually believe you.

"V, Atlanta is not for you, not for a street kid like you. You dream of making big money, but the only way left for the lower class here is to work honestly.

But you don't want to do those boring, tedious jobs, so you can only leave in the end. Trust me, before you leave you'll probably have to spend at least a year in prison."

Now I give you a second option—want to make it big?"

He spoke halfway, then directly cut to the point.

Lille didn't follow his communication procedure step by step but went straight to the crux.

He wanted to extend his hand, but realized his body was too weak and could only shaky place his hand on the table, making a handshake gesture.

If his physical condition were normal, he would be sweating profusely by now—

A handshake signified the success of the third phase, even directly reaching the fourth phase—closing the deal.

But this risky move had a success rate definitely not more than 50%.

Unless the other party was a street kid who wanted to become famous.

Such people cannot swallow the humiliation of being manipulated, and there's also an opportunity here to make a big score—robbing corporate dogs wouldn't be a burden for V.

Slowly advancing the conversation process is very secure, but talking too much can also increase chances of mistakes. Lille must grasp the information he knows for sure to maximize his advantage.

V didn't put down his gun but looked Lille up and down: "What's your name?"

"Lille Lee—so you just need to call me Lille, it's both my English and Chinese name."

"Weird name—you look too ugly, put some clothes on."

V didn't shake hands but casually threw a piece of clothing at Lille: "Put it on, then let's hear what you plan to do—but just to be clear, I'm only listening."

Lille accepted the clothes and said, "Move Mr. Zhu Shen to the car, find a safe place, then we can talk."

...

Wearing new clothes—a dirty, deep green pair of cropped pants and a lab coat, Lille felt like a person again, even though not entirely, looking like one of those homeless wanderers on the streets of Night City.

The city core—Atlanta, prosperous and safe, unlike driving on the roads where one could get hit by rockets from gangs; here, you could feel the blooming of technology, the greatness of humanity.

Skyscrapers towering into the clouds, orderly traffic under smart algorithms, bustling crowds, occasional floating cars glittering across the sky, and clean and impressive holographic promotional videos everywhere.

And the foundation for all this is absolute surveillance and extreme penalties for cybercrimes.

Unable to hide one's traces on the network, one naturally couldn't hide actual criminal activities either.

Everyone is monitored, everyone is safe—that is Atlanta.

Driving past the flyover, the car headed to the edge of the city, still very safe, at least devoid of rampant gunfire.

But it's very dim here, people with lifeless eyes, weariness as their standard accessory, and poverty, a disease destined to entwine them for life and perhaps even for generations.

"If I have to live aimlessly like these guys every day, I might as well be dead."

While driving, V suddenly complained.

"People's endurance is strong, not everyone is you, V."

V glanced at Lille in the passenger seat: "What about you? You also don't look like those corporate dogs. How come a baldy knows so much?"

"First off, I'm not bald, and second—why do you think I'm not a corporate dog?"

"Ha, you don't even have a high-end prosthetic, yet act all high and mighty?"

"You see, this is where you lack experience." Lille decisively began to belittle, for the sake of his life, it was time to play some tricks.

"If the company liked guys with full-body prosthetics, wouldn't the Vortex Gang all join the company and get trauma group insurance? Wake up, V. The degree of prosthetics is not a major concern of the company.

They already manufacture prosthetics; it's the skills beyond prosthetics that are more important…"

Lille wasn't exactly lying—strictly speaking, in his previous life, he was indeed viewed as a corporate lackey by the likes of V's street gang buddies.

If being physically fit was the only requirement for a corporate job, then all employees there would be athletes.

Hiss—

A piercing sound of brakes interrupted Lille's rambling as inertia almost threw him against the glass.

"I could kill you with a sudden stop, and yet you pretend?"

Lille looked helplessly at V as she closed the door and stepped out of the car.

This chick really had a temper—well, the V he controlled in the game was even more violent, like the kind from the Terrorist Mobile Team.

This place was a temporary sanctuary V had found—an abandoned tin sheet house available for just 120 euros a month from a leasing agency.

Yes, such was this shabby tin sheet house, without smart wiring or physical network channels, nothing at all, only boasting a shaky power line and a land use right, for 120 euros a month.

The advantage was that it could avoid the law enforcers; the disadvantage was also evading the law enforcers, one wouldn't dare sleep here without some weapons.

Bang.

Zhu Shen was thrown to the ground, and V said, "Alright, what do you want to do?"

"Figure out what their secret dealings are, then see how much we can fish out."

V paused for a moment, "You said that was tricking me."

Lille explained, "Yes, your employer tricked you, but it's very likely the reason he hired you is because they can't deal with officials directly—how have you been communicating with your employer lately?"

"I told him I was still chasing those Scavengers—he really didn't suspect, but I guess it's only a matter of time before she finds something fishy."

"No worries... just wake this guy up, but only in the physical sense, don't help him to remove the isolation chip."

"So many demands."

Saying so, V pulled out a pneumatic injector and administered a shot to Mr. Zhu.

"Whoosh—"

Like returning from hell, the man took a deep breath and then exhaled, looking around in terror:

"Who are you—who are you guys? Where am I?"

"We are your saviors—depending on your answers, you might find yourself in heaven or hell—I guess you've already discovered your system has been hacked."

"Damn it!" Zhu Shen paused, then roared lowly after realizing he couldn't use any of his prosthetics, "Release me, I can give you more money."

It must be said, Mr. Zhu was quite composed, regaining his composure in just a few seconds—at least on the surface.

Lille stroked his chin: "So you've already guessed who's behind this?"

Corporate dogs are quite sensitive when it comes to conspiracies, especially when they're the ones being conned; blaming it on the Scavengers at this point would just indicate a lack of intelligence.

Zhu Shen lifted his head, looking warily at Lille: "Release me, I can give you a sum of money, and then we can pretend none of this ever happened."

"Hmph, true to the nature of a corporate dog, talking tough even now," V scoffed from the side.

Lille then said, "You see, if you understood your situation, you'd know that paying you and letting you go now means certain death for us—and for you too.

But we can totally continue playing along with the employer's script, that way at least we get reimbursed for our travel expenses and such."

Zhu Shen was unyielding: "Then you might as well keep playing."

Lille smiled without saying a word, just locking eyes with the corporate executive. After a few seconds, Zhu Shen's face began to turn pale.

The system virus made his prosthetics malfunction, bringing on dizziness and nausea that clouded his judgment, making it difficult for him to maintain his thoughts.

But just as Lille had surmised, he didn't immediately reset his system to call for help—a good sign, suggesting a lucrative reward.

Lille continued, "But you guessed right, the employer isn't very honest with us, I don't like being deceived—so here's a chance, we can work for you, if your offer is good enough—naturally, it must be very high.

You know, you're in luck, I just started freelancing, and I have a high tolerance for risky jobs."

"Urgh—" Zhu Shen started to retch, but he quickly recovered.

Raising his head, he glanced at Lille, and then at V, finally addressing Lille: "I will only negotiate with you."

Lille was overjoyed inside but kept a good control over himself, his mind flashing through all those bombastic videos—

Intermediaries might be poor or weak, but they have to know how to put on an act, especially in front of mercenaries.

"Alright—left to heaven, V, please open the door on the left for this gentleman," Lille requested.

V gave a strange look and opened the door to the left.

The tin house indeed had two rooms, but the other room was a bathroom... surely they couldn't consider negotiating with Zhu Shen in a bathroom, right?

What a pretentious bald monk.