Chapter 55: Recon and Reinforcements

Here's a refined version of the passage, adjusted to appeal to a Western audience while retaining the Cyberpunk 2077 vibe:

Despite knowing Lin Mo was far from ordinary, hearing him casually say, "too much money to spend," still left Hiro with a bitter reminder of the world's inequalities.

It made sense, though. Anyone who could drive a top-tier ride like a Rayfield Caliburn clearly came from a world beyond his understanding.

Hiro sighed. What he couldn't quite wrap his head around was why someone like Lin Mo—born with a silver spoon—would choose the dangerous life of an Edgerunner. Did his family even know? And then there was his talent—wealthy, good-looking, with skill, and a ruthless, cold-blooded edge, all at just sixteen years old.

Sometimes, Hiro wondered if the gods were playing favorites when they made someone like Lin Mo. If he didn't get killed along the way, this kid was destined to one day make all of Night City tremble.

The only question was whether he'd be remembered as a living legend or end up buried in some unmarked grave.

"We're a team," Lin Mo said with a grin. "If you borrow from me to upgrade yourself, I'd be happy. You don't want to stay a low-tier Edgerunner forever, right?"

Hiro chuckled, feeling a bit of relief. Lin Mo had a point, but he couldn't help asking the obvious.

"Aren't you worried I'll just take your money and disappear?"

Lin Mo shrugged. "Let's be real. Comparing your income to my pocket change isn't exactly fair."

Hiro laughed, not the least bit offended by Lin Mo's bluntness.

"Alright, when the time comes, I'll hit you up for that loan. Just don't regret it."

"If it's for a mansion or a luxury car, I might think twice," Lin Mo teased.

"Nah, nothing like that," Hiro waved him off, smiling.

They kept up the light banter as they approached where the Caliburn was parked.

Once again, Hiro took the driver's seat. Under his hands, the Caliburn flowed through the streets like a blade slicing through the air, its powerful engine roaring as it cut through traffic. Nobody dared challenge a car that looked—and sounded—like it was barely staying within the bounds of legality.

With his past in the Tyger Claws, Hiro handled the car like a pro, slipping between vehicles and threading gaps with the ease of a seasoned racer. While Lin Mo had driven the Caliburn like a lightning bolt, Hiro drove more like a dancer, gracefully weaving through the chaos of Night City traffic. Even at high speeds, he was in total control.

As the city blurred by, Lin Mo's voice broke through the hum of the engine. "You know where the Three Stars Motel is, right?"

Hiro didn't hesitate, keeping his eyes on the road. "Looked it up while you were getting patched up. It's an old, run-down spot in the northern industrial district, mostly blue-collar workers."

Lin Mo frowned. "She was either brave or stupid to go somewhere like that."

The northern industrial district of Watson used to be a hub of activity, but after Arasaka crushed the local businesses, the area fell into ruin. The few factories still standing barely provided enough work to keep the area alive.

Then there was Maelstrom. The gang had claimed the ruins, turning it into one of the city's most dangerous zones. Even the NCPD wouldn't bother patrolling there.

"Kids," Hiro said, his voice tinged with cynicism. "They think they're untouchable. Chasing thrills without realizing how easily they could end up dead. I've seen it plenty of times."

Lin Mo didn't respond immediately, staring out the window as the streets zipped by. After a long pause, he spoke, his tone quieter than usual. "When you go to war as a kid, you think others will die, but not you. Then you take that first hit, and reality hits back."

Hiro raised an eyebrow. "That from For Whom the Bell Tolls?"

"Something like that," Lin Mo replied.

Hiro didn't push further, shifting the conversation back to their mission. "By the way, I don't think we're dealing with Maelstrom this time. They don't typically run in human trafficking."

"Scavs," Lin Mo said, his voice icy.

"Yeah, that tracks."

"Good," Lin Mo said, sizing up the situation. "That makes things easier."

The Caliburn pulled up near the Three Stars Motel, parking just outside an abandoned industrial lot.

Lin Mo and Hiro exited the car, moving quietly toward the motel, careful not to attract any unwanted attention.

Hiro pressed his back to the motel's crumbling wall, his enhanced hearing kicking in as his audio implants scanned for any unusual sounds from within.

"Anything?" Lin Mo asked after a few moments.

Hiro shook his head. "Nope. Nothing out of the ordinary. Looks like they're not here."

"Figured," Lin Mo muttered. "This place is just a front. They're hiding somewhere else."

He wasn't surprised. It wasn't unusual for places like this to be used as bait, with the real operation happening behind the scenes.

"What's the play?" Hiro asked. "We could find a rooftop, try to get a better view."

Lin Mo waved him off. "No need. Wait here a sec."

Without another word, Lin Mo disappeared into the motel. Hiro stayed alert, listening as the muffled sounds of scuffling and a few heavy thuds echoed from inside. It wasn't long before Lin Mo re-emerged, wiping his hands casually.

"I got what we needed," Lin Mo said. "The owner knew more than he was letting on. A little 'persuasion' got him talking."

"Think he'll warn them?" Hiro asked, glancing back toward the door.

"Doubt it. I made sure he's... tied up for the night. No calls are getting out. And I checked the guest list—no one else checked in today. Locked the door on my way out."

"Nice," Lin Mo nodded in approval.

With the intel Hiro had squeezed out, they soon found themselves perched on a nearby rooftop, overlooking a sprawling, run-down factory complex.

From this vantage point, Lin Mo could see three large warehouse buildings surrounded by crumbling residential shacks and rusting shipping containers.

It was a ghost town—no trucks, no workers. Only a few faint lights cut through the otherwise dark landscape. In the middle of it all, a group of people had gathered, drinking and blasting music from their trucks.

"Scavs," Hiro muttered, peering through his sniper scope. "I'd recognize those scavenging scumbags anywhere."

Lin Mo focused on the figures in the distance. Their ragged, makeshift clothing—packed with oversized pockets and straps—was a dead giveaway.

The Scavs didn't have the distinct flash of a gang like Tyger Claws or Maelstrom, but their look was unmistakable. They wore whatever they could loot, prioritizing practicality over style.

"Looks like a lot of them," Lin Mo murmured. "Celebrating something."

Being Sunday, he figured they were toasting to their week's 'earnings,' most likely racked up through some illegal side hustle.

"There's at least fifty out there," Hiro said, frowning. "And probably more inside. If we rush in, we'll get torn apart."

"Right," Lin Mo agreed. "We'll need to go in quiet. A frontal assault would be suicide."

Hiro was about to say more when he noticed something odd. Lin Mo was staring at his phone, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

"Lin Mo… who are you calling?"

Lin Mo grinned. "Wakako."

"You're calling Wakako? So, we're bailing on the rescue?" Hiro asked, confused.

Before they left, Wakako had given them two objectives: rescue the girl or, at the very least, get intel. They could still complete the second and walk away with a payout.

But Lin Mo shook his head. "No, we're still rescuing her."

Hiro's confusion deepened. "Then why call?"

Lin Mo smirked. "We're calling in reinforcements."