Troublesome Jobs

"Operation's over. All done, get up. The anesthetic will last a while longer, but don't make any big movements."

Hearing Viktor say that, Carl touched her spine and slowly sat up from the operating table.

"How do you feel now?"

After watching from the side for several hours and keeping his mouth shut so he wouldn't disrupt the surgery, Oliver finally no longer had to hold back. He immediately leaned over and asked curiously, "It took me a long time to get used to it back then."

"All I can say is that it's more bearable than I expected."

As Carl spoke, she found that with a single thought, she could try connecting to the various corporations' local network servers.

"I removed the backdoor software left behind by the corporation that sold it to you. This Access Port only gives you some basic connection functions. If you want more processing power or want to use it for technical work, you'll need to install other hardware. Don't get too carried away—if you mess up with this thing, a hacker could infiltrate your body through it."

Viktor gave his warning as he moved his hands, which had gone slightly numb from the surgery. He had used external machinery to operate, but his flesh-and-blood arms had done all the work. After so long, he was a little tired.

"You can try creating a private account on it now. You can keep your money there afterward. Unless someone takes you out, or hacks into your operating system and cracks your account, no one can take the money in your private account."

Viktor glanced at the bloodstained cash. "If you need more implants in the future, use online payment. This money's hard to launder."

Hearing Viktor say the money was hard to launder, Carl inexplicably pictured a gang boss complaining about how difficult it was to wash money.

Viktor's appearance was terribly deceptive. Looking at him alone, who would have thought that this mature, handsome middle-aged man with a face that clearly carried a story would be such a skilled ripperdoc?

"I'll remember that. But if you take someone out, can you take the money from their private account?"

"Once someone's dead, the money in their private operating system can be hacked through the Access Port."

Oliver spoke from the side. "If you'd had this Access Port earlier, we might've been able to buy everything at full price."

"Then we'll have to keep that in mind next time."

Walking over to the bag where she had placed the firearms before the operation, Carl opened it, took out Oliver's gun, and tossed it back to him.

Oliver happily caught his pistol.

"Oh, my dear Nova, you're back. Getting ready to look for work, KK?"

Darrah Polytechnic DR-5 Nova: A traditional revolver, easy to damage and easy to repair. Everyone needs one.

"When you're out of money, you've got to work."

Carl stuffed the extra two hundred eurodollars Viktor had handed her into her pocket and picked up the bag. "We also need to find a gun shop, sell this stuff cheap, and buy some ammo."

"You two planning to look for work now?"

Viktor had gone back to his computer after finishing up and resumed playing the boxing match, but upon hearing them, he pushed off the floor with his foot and spun his chair around.

"The implants you have don't offer much protection. If you're going out, remember to buy some body armor at the weapon shop. It won't stop weapons, but sometimes it might get lucky and leave you with your life."

"Body armor? Thanks, I'll remember that."

Carl remembered that America before her transmigration had banned the sale of body armor. Cyberpunk really was different. She nodded and thanked Viktor for the reminder.

"No need to thank me. I just think Night City could use more polite young people like you."

Viktor turned back around, and the sound of the boxing match resumed.

Carl and Oliver left the ripperdoc clinic. Before leaving, Carl also pulled shut the clinic's folding metal gate.

Viktor really was a good person. These days, people who didn't care too much about money and were willing to offer discounts were rare enough, let alone when that person was a ripperdoc. They could come back here in the future for new implants or repairs.

In Night City, no shops were easier to find than gun stores. In a city where everyone carried a gun, there were even more gun shops than convenience stores. Carl and Oliver found one by the roadside after only taking a few steps away from Viktor's clinic.

The bag full of guns didn't sell for much. The whole thing only brought in two thousand five hundred eurodollars. The price had obviously been pushed down, but since they had picked the stuff up along the way anyway, and the owner was willing to throw in a few boxes of ammunition and holsters, Carl sold it without complaint. Feeling the data transaction and seeing an extra two thousand five hundred eurodollars in her private account, Carl could only say that the first experience was strange.

"Beep."

While waiting for Carl to finish the transaction, Oliver suddenly noticed that one thousand two hundred and fifty eurodollars had been transferred into his account. The number made him instantly understand, and he looked at Carl.

"We split what we get from helping each other."

Carl tucked her Lexington into the holster the gun shop owner had included. Before Oliver could refuse and try to transfer the money back, she cut him off. "If we're planning to work together, then a fifty-fifty split is only natural. If we're going to divide things that carefully, save it for the big jobs."

What Carl meant was that they were both rookie mercenaries anyway, so there was no need to divide things so precisely. Once they took on major jobs in the future, they could split the pay according to contribution.

"No, I just wanted to say... I think this is the first money I've ever earned myself."

Oliver didn't care about that. He was merely a little sentimental. "I used to spend my dad's and sister's money all the time. I joined a gang, and I was about to get kicked out in less than a week. This is the first time I've ever felt what it was like to make money myself."

"Then you must've had a pretty good life before."

For Oliver, who had grown up on the streets, to have never even needed to steal or hustle for money before, his father and sister must have protected him very well.

After tossing some ammunition to Oliver, Carl looked at the gloomy sky outside. "So, how should we find work now?"

"Find a fixer?"

Fixers: Intermediaries who connected edgerunners with clients. They took a portion of the client's payment, but they also helped mercenaries deal with most procedural troubles. In this day and age, they were indispensable partners for mercenaries who wanted to accomplish major things.

Information about fixers flashed through Carl's mind. She agreed with Oliver's suggestion. If mercenaries who didn't understand the connections or the situation took jobs on their own, they would probably get scammed out of their payment before anything else. Finding a fixer was definitely the smart choice. But before that, there was one small problem.

"Do you know any fixers?"

"I never planned to become a mercenary before, and I don't have any reputation. Of course I don't know a single one."

"I see."

Carl and Oliver looked at each other.

How did they take jobs? Find a fixer. But they didn't know any fixers. Build a reputation, and fixers would naturally come looking for them. But how could they build a reputation without taking jobs? Find a fixer to take jobs.

Great. They were stuck in a dead loop.

On the first day of the Carl and Oliver mercenary team's existence, they were troubled by their inability to find any work.