"You should wipe your face first."
After hesitating for a moment, Blanca took out a handkerchief and handed it to Carl. "You can't really walk around looking like that."
"What do I look like?"
Only then did Carl find a shard of glass in the room and look at her reflection in it. When she saw her face, her expression darkened. "No wonder my face felt all sticky."
Carl wiped her face clean with the handkerchief, then handed it back to Blanca.
"Thanks."
Would a normal person really hand someone's handkerchief back without hesitation after wiping blood off their face with it?
Looking at her handkerchief, still dripping with blood, Blanca's mouth twitched. Considering how well the other woman had handled this job, she endured it, took the handkerchief back, and watched Carl start searching through the Maelstrom corpses.
"What are you doing?"
"Searching for money and picking up guns to sell."
Didn't her employer know that mercenaries naturally looted everything?
Carl glanced at her employer. What kind of rich upbringing was this, not even picking up money that had fallen on the ground?
Realizing she had asked a stupid question, Blanca only felt as though her brain had stopped working properly in front of this killing machine.
Under Blanca's watchful gaze, Carl spent ten minutes gathering up the money and weapons. Then neither of them lingered upstairs any longer. Everything had been dealt with, so there was no point staying.
When they reached the ground floor, Carl also searched the belongings on the three corpses by the entrance. She then looked at the car that had brought them here, but ultimately did not take it as well.
It was not that Carl did not want it. Modern cars all had dedicated locking and authentication systems. She had no specialized unlocking tools, and she had only just begun learning hacking, so there was nothing she could do with the vehicle.
"Do you need me to give you a ride?"
As a reward for how promptly Blanca had settled the payment, Carl was quite willing to give her a lift.
"No need. My car is here."
Carl watched the cybernetic eye in Blanca's eye socket flicker. Then a Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor drove over from the distance on autopilot and slowly stopped before them.
Villefort Cortes V5000 Valor: The most valuable model produced by the Villefort factory. Its simple and elegant appearance made it popular among corporate figures, politicians, and high-ranking gang members. Although it was prone to malfunctions, its sturdy body, manufactured in cooperation with Militech, ensured the safety of its occupants.
The driver's door opened automatically. After Blanca got into the car, she did not immediately close the door and drive away. Instead, with one foot on the floor mat and the other on the ground outside, she invited Carl, "Want me to give you a ride while I'm at it?"
A smile finally appeared on her face. "Consider it for the sake of working together more in the future."
It seemed this number would be called often in the future.
Though that was what Carl thought, she declined Blanca's offer. "I can walk back myself."
"All right."
Seeing Carl refuse, Blanca did not press the matter. She waved goodbye, straightened herself in the seat, pulled the door shut, and drove away. Carl watched her leave for a long while.
A few minutes later, Carl sighed. "That car has to cost at least 370,000 Eurodollars. My commission really was too low."
Carl had originally thought 50,000 Eurodollars was quite a lot, but compared to the car her employer had casually driven away in...
"I'll have to work harder next time."
Carrying several large and small bags as she headed toward southern Watson District, Carl idly browsed vehicle prices in her head. Then she happened to see an advertisement.
Want to soar through the stars? Want to stand on the moon? A moon landing no longer costs ten million, or even one million. All it takes is 250,000 Eurodollars. Why wait when you can act now?
Moon travel?
These days, could people casually visit the moon too?
Carl was a little tempted.
She still longed for the stars somewhat. Beneath the listing for a three-day, two-night moon tour costing 250,000 Eurodollars, she also saw the cost of settling on the moon. With all the paperwork and processing fees added up, it came to...
Five million Eurodollars.
And that did not even include the cost of buying a house on the moon.
Curious about lunar housing prices, Carl looked up some information and found the relevant figures on Night City News 54.
An immigrant residence costs 100 million Eurodollars per unit. Though the price may seem a little high, it is nothing compared to your safety. (In-game news)
One hundred million.
Carl did a quick calculation. She would have to take two thousand jobs like Blanca's to earn that much. At ten deaths per job, that meant twenty thousand people would need to die to earn 100 million. Even the entire Maelstrom gang would not have enough people to kill. With that much time, she would be better off having a little chat with some corporate executives.
Fortunately, she had no plans to settle on the moon. But if she had the time, she could try going there for fun.
Besides, going to the moon would not really make any difference.
Carl looked at the example News 54 used to promote legitimate, safe immigration. Some corporations used the promise of an immigrant paradise to trick people into going to the moon to work themselves to death. All she could say was that corporations were the same everywhere. They would never change.
Whether their bodies were bound by Earth's gravity or seemingly free to roam the stars, in the end, their eyes were still blinded by neon lights more dazzling than the sun.
As Carl left the northern Industrial Park of Watson District and saw more and more billboards, she thought about it and decided to try having steak tonight.
Worm steak. Maybe it really did have six times the protein of real beef.
Other than the two Saratoga Submachine Guns manufactured by Militech, Carl sold every other gun. Added to her commission and the miscellaneous money she had scavenged, her account was nearing the unprecedented height of 60,000 Eurodollars.
She could give one submachine gun to Jack, then see what cyberware they wanted. She could lend them the money to cover it first.
With money in her pocket, Carl was visibly more extravagant. While considering how to spend it, she entered a roadside restaurant and ordered a rib steak she had never tried before, costing a full twenty Eurodollars.
Only two minutes later, the worm-synthesized steak was served. A synthetic bone made from hydroxyapatite had been stuck into the slab of meat as the rib portion of the rib steak decoration, and it looked rather convincing.
At least in appearance, it was already eighty percent similar to the real rib steak Carl had eaten before.
She wondered how it tasted.
A few seconds later, Carl's face twisted as she cut off a piece of the soft "beef" with her knife and fork and chewed it.
Damn it. That money had been wasted.
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