Moral foundations

Exiting the club, I headed straight for the car and opened the back door. I carefully placed the girl on the seat and moved to the front.

"Let me tell you right away, stop helping everyone indiscriminately. Believe me, this rarely leads to good. Either you'll get eaten alive, or those you help will turn their backs on you. I've seen many good guys end up six feet under. Too many people out there want to take advantage of your sincerity, sorry for the expression," my partner said.

"I understand, but I can't just leave things as they are," I said. Though I wanted to simply agree with his words, I've seen much worse in my life.

"I'm not arguing, you can help, but not people like her. She's no better than criminals with weapons. They operate more subtly: first they lure you in, then they rob you. That's their life: if they get caught, it's over; if not, luck is on their side," he replied.

"Got it," I said, glancing once more at the dossier that detailed her crimes: fraud and theft. Indeed, she had several cases for such activities.

"So, where did you serve before this? They say you're not a newbie, but you seem to be out of your depth," said Demian. He was probably referring to my attitude towards everything going on.

"You could say I'm not from your time," I said. Forty years is quite a long period.

"Now I get it. Looks like you decided to replace your body in your old age and came back to service. Well, maybe that's how it is. I heard it wasn't like this before, but times change," said Todd.

"Yeah, it's been a long time since I was on duty," I decided to go along with his version.

"Understood. We're almost there. Sorry, but I don't want to get involved there. I'm not looking for shootouts and blood. The neighborhood isn't the best, gang attention is too high here," he said, stopping next to the poor streets of Heywood.

"I understand, I'll take her myself," I replied. I understood him perfectly. He was a happy family man, he had certain goals and plans. Obviously, he didn't want to take risks just like that, because one mistake and he's dead. The police is not a place where you can relax: constant dangers and threats of being sent to the other side at any moment.

Opening the car door, I approached the back seat and looked at the helpless girl, convinced that I was doing the right thing, even though I saw her deeds. Life was simpler when I didn't know all the vices of the person in front of me, though the choices became harder.

Lifting her in my arms, I carried her to her apartment. A stark contrast compared to other parts of this area: the streets were filled with garbage, walls were covered in graffiti, and little was intact. It seemed other city services didn't reach here either. People I met along the way looked at me as if they had already calculated how much I was worth in parts.

Whistle

"Hey guys, looks like we got ourselves a little Christmas present. How much do you think it's worth? Thirty thousand eddies?" said one of the unsavory elements of society.

"You want to die?" I said, without hesitation.

"Whoa, take it easy, just joking, right, guys?" he replied, backing away.

His buddies echoed in agreement. Though they wanted to try taking me apart for parts, they didn't dare make a move. I walked straight towards him, and if he hadn't stepped back, there would have been a fight. Fortunately, he just moved aside, letting me pass.

A bullet didn't hit me in the back, so I considered the negotiation a success. Inside the building, I quickly found the right room. At first, I wanted to barge in, but decided to knock—she might not live alone, and someone could be inside. Pressing the doorbell, I waited.

"What do you want, cop?" came a voice from behind the door after a few seconds.

"Does Miranda Hill live at this address?" I asked.

"Miranda?" After a few more seconds, I heard clicks, and the door opened, revealing a young girl with multicolored hair, wearing a short tank top and leather pants.

[image]

(7 years younger accordingly)

Name: Judy Alvarez

Age: 18

Workplace: Clouds

Position: Technician

Crimes: None

Marital Status: No information

Recommendation: Do not engage

"Yes, of course. What happened to her?" Her voice was immediately filled with emotions: panic, fear.

"Nothing serious, she's just asleep. She received first aid," I said, continuing to study her face. It looked so familiar.

"Thank you, how much do we owe you?" she asked, looking over her friend. A strange feeling—does no one trust the police in this city?

"Nothing, it's my duty," I said. I heard a chuckle and was about to hand over Miranda when I caught her doubtful look.

"Could you carry her inside? I'm not particularly strong," she said. I looked her over and saw she was quite thin, clearly undernourished, living in cheap housing in a terrible neighborhood. Her residence wasn't listed in Night City, so she must have come from far away, trying to settle in a new city.

"Alright," I said, entering the small apartment and placing Miranda on a couch that had seen better days. "Have a good day," I said and left the apartment.

"Wait, thank you. What's your name?" Judy shouted after me.

"Matthew Carrington," I replied. Finally leaving the place, I pondered. Seeing where many people had to live, I understood what life drives people to do. Maybe a person is truly good, believing in the best, but when life forces you to choose, sometimes the choice is extremely unpleasant. Such is the price of freedom: as long as there are those who desire it more than others, they will take it.

Making my way back to the police car, I noticed more people had appeared on the street.

"Hey, tin can, I don't like you walking around here so freely. This is no place for your kind," the same guy from before said, but now his voice held much more confidence.

"Are you willing to risk your life for a few eddies?" I asked.

"Why would I..." he started slowly, then suddenly swung at me and bolted. "And why not?" he finished with a grin.

"Fool," I said, grabbing his hand.

"Am I?" he smirked, and the skin on his arms parted. It seemed strength came from nowhere as he forcefully sent me flying, flipping several times in the air.

Damage to chassis: 2%

My mistake. Getting back on my feet, I activated the weapon recognition module. Instantly, information about his arms was displayed.

Cyberimplant "Gorilla Arms." One of the most powerful cyberimplants. Designed to significantly increase the user's physical strength.

[image]

Incredible, does everyone around here have such weapons? Guns aren't even necessary; you can tear a person apart with bare hands. I'll need to study all the information.

Risk of armed conflict.

The message flashed on the display, showing the weapons the thugs were drawing. Mostly pistols, but a few had assault rifles. I could see all the specifications, and my armor class should withstand them. Quickly darting, I hid behind the alley wall.

"Come on, don't hide, you won't escape anyway. Boys, once we sell him off, drinks are on me," he said, and cheers erupted around him. They started shooting almost immediately. Bullets rained down on the edge of my cover, concrete chips sprinkling over me. I had a choice—flee or engage?

Jamming my hand into the concrete, I barely made a dent. Escaping upwards was out. I was in a dead end, as the alley was more like a small space designed for aesthetics.

My resources were limited: only the pistol I'd taken from that lunatic. It had just four bullets—not much, but maybe enough. Bracing myself, I made a dash, bursting out of cover and, under a hail of bullets, aimed at the nearest thug. Two precise shots—one thug down. I immediately grabbed his pistol from his lifeless hand and managed to snag one magazine before diving behind the nearest car. A few quick shots, and the enemies nearby were dead.

Chassis damage: 34%

The display showed my armor had taken significant damage. That dash had cost me. Quickly glancing at the weapon I'd acquired:

[image]

Unity

Type: Pistol

Class: Light Pistol

Ammo: 9mm rounds

Magazine: 12/1

Description: A reliable and versatile pistol. Known for its simplicity and high accuracy.

Features: Moderate damage, good rate of fire, capable of mounting various mods and sights.

Ammo almost depleted. I removed the magazine and reloaded. The grenade icon flickered on the screen. Don't they realize that the more damaged I am, the less they'll earn? Their plan seems pointless to me. Even if they capture me, they'll probably get little from my body. Maybe this is just an excuse, and they actually just hate the police. No wonder Todd didn't want to get involved here. Rolling a few times to avoid the grenade's blast radius, I fired back, killing with precise shots. I found myself in another cover.

As soon as I thought of Todd, the street was torn apart by the sound of a siren, and a police car sped through the gang's ranks at full speed, instantly mowing them down. Thanks to my partner, he took a risk for me, even though we had only known each other for a day. There's no time to sit idle, I need to help him.

Without sparing ammo, I started shooting back at the gang members, pushing forward with heavy fire, picking up weapons from the fallen. The firefight got intense. Many grenades flew in different directions, and bullets roared through the street.

Gradually, I cleared the street of the gang members, and after a moment, the final shot rang out, ending the fight. I quickly headed towards Demyan Todd to check on him. He had rushed in with the patrol car, which was lightly armored, and was already taking cover behind it, shooting back. There was little left of the car, it looked like a sieve. Circling around the car, I saw my almost intact partner. Quickly pulling out a Trauma 1 syringe, I injected him.

"My wife will kill me tonight," Todd said with a smile, holding his wounded arm.

"Thank you for risking your life for me," I appreciated his help, though I thought he acted foolishly. I'm just a drone, and he's a living person.

"We're partners," he replied. "In the report, write that they attacked us and we had to defend ourselves. Don't mention the girl or why we were here—just that we were patrolling Heywood, got it?"

"Yeah," I replied, understanding why some details needed to be omitted.

"Let's try to get our car started. If it runs, it'll be a miracle," Todd said. I supported him by the arm and helped him up, opened the car door, and helped him sit down. He started the car. At first, it didn't respond, but after a couple of seconds, the dashboard came to life. "Alright, looks like it's working. Get the repair kit from the trunk and patch up the tires on that side, then maybe we can drive."

Approaching the trunk, I took out the repair container. Looking at the completely punctured tires, I doubted whether they could be fixed at all. Although it wasn't rubber, it was something strange to me; I was curious about the material. The system showed what and how to use it, and quickly, seeing the black liquid inside the tires, I waited for the result. After a few moments, gel began to ooze from the holes, and the punctured tires filled up and took on a round shape. That's what I call a high-tech repair. After doing the same with the second tire, I got inside.

"Actually, can you grab the assault rifles from all the gang members?" Todd said.

"Why?" I asked.

"You see, we'll get fined so heavily it'll hurt. I want to sell these weapons to a contact," he said. Thinking that the job wasn't straightforward, I got out and fulfilled his request, collecting the most valuable weapons and filling the trunk with them. Then I got back inside.

"Now, here's the plan. I reported the firefight. Our task is to get back to the base. I informed them that we would be able to return, but before that, we need to sell all the weapons, so just stay quiet. I'll handle everything," he ordered.

"Understood," I replied.

The car started moving uncertainly. The damaged tires caused imbalance, making it veer in different directions. The stabilization system tried to level the vehicle, but it didn't work very well. Hobbling along, we reached a car wash with several doors. A man in a hood stood by one of the walls. Seeing our car, he knocked on a metal door a few times. After a moment, one of the gates began to open.

The car drove inside, and everything inside suggested it was just a car wash. A robot, as if nothing had happened, began cleaning the car. Another person approached the car from behind, opened our trunk, and started taking out the weapons. Demyan just stared ahead. In the dossier of everyone inside the car wash, there was a glimpse of arms dealing.

After a moment, the entire structure parted, releasing our vehicle. The doors behind us opened again, allowing us to drive out.

"I'll transfer your share later," Todd said. It seemed like he had done this before. I could guess that he always needed money, and the job didn't pay much, so he had to come up with various schemes to earn a bit more. Surely, this wasn't his only scheme; there must be others. After all, supporting three kids isn't easy—I know from experience how much trouble I had with all sorts of purchases.

We somehow made it back to the department, where the police captain and the mechanic were already waiting for us.

"Demyan, you promised not to mess up my beauty anymore," Samuel said, almost in tears as he ran his hands over the battered car.

Name: Samuel Galavan

Age: 41

Occupation: Heywood District Police

Position: Mechanic

Criminal Record: None

Marital Status: Unknown

Recommendation: Do not engage

"Sorry, you know how there've been so many idiots with guns lately," Demyan said.

"Officers, I won't ask why the hell you were on that street. Fine, the trainee doesn't really know our rules yet, but Demyan, what were you thinking going there? Come with me, let's discuss everything in the office," said the head of our department.

Name: Murphy Jackson

Age: 39

Occupation: Heywood District Police

Position: Head of Heywood Police Department (Rank: Captain)

Criminal Record: None

Marital Status: Unknown

Recommendation: Do not engage

"Alright," Todd replied and went off with the captain.

I lingered for a moment, watching the mechanic, who was almost crying over the car. He was gently stroking it, muttering something. Deciding not to stay with someone who seemed obsessed with vehicles, I headed towards the ripperdoc. Even though she told me to visit as rarely as possible, I needed repairs.

Damage to the body: 63%

Stopping at the entrance, I gathered my thoughts and, after knocking for a few seconds, opened the door. Sarah was sitting at the table, fiddling with some mechanism. She looked up at me, and displeasure was evident on her face.

"Is that you? I believe I warned you to come here as rarely as possible, and here you are the very next day," Sarah said.

"Such are the circumstances," I replied, indicating my injuries.

"Another shootout. Poor Demyan, he's stuck with you as a partner. If I were him, I would have filed for your suspension from duty," she said, approaching the operating table and nodding for me to lie down.

"I..." I started to say, but she silenced me with a gesture, placing her index finger to her lips.

"I... don't... care. Now just be quiet," she said, slowly and clearly. Not wanting to provoke a conflict, I fell silent and watched as she patched up the holes in my body. Her movements were precise, and despite her attitude towards me, she worked quite professionally.

After finishing the repairs, she asked me to leave immediately, which I did. I hadn't expected my first day to be so eventful.