55 Really Is Damn Weird

55. This Is Really Damn Weird

"It's really hot today. Working in weather like this really kills any motivation."

Lying on the rooftop of a shop in Santo Domingo, feeling the stifling heat that hadn't faded even at night, Oliver couldn't help sighing. "I really wish I could get home early and enjoy an ice-cold drink."

"This counts as hot?"

Carl, who was rarely partnered with Oliver for a job, sat on the edge of the rooftop and watched the endless stream of vehicles below. Her tone was calm. "The weather back then—that was real heat."

"It used to be hotter? What are you talking about, Carl?"

Oliver propped himself up slightly and glanced at her. "I was born and raised in Night City. I'd wager I've never seen a summer as unbearable as this one."

"There really was one."

Carl didn't turn around, and there was no emotion in her voice. "Back in 2023, it was as hot as a furnace, but no one complained."

"2023..."

Oliver froze for a moment, then caught the meaning behind those numbers.

He instinctively wanted to laugh, but felt it wasn't appropriate and forcibly held it back. "Another hell joke, huh? Let me tell you, even back then, Santo Domingo wasn't affected that badly. The temperature might not have even been as high as it is now."

"Whatever. Just endure it. It'll be over soon anyway."

Carl ignored Oliver, who was lying beside her, resting and stretching. Oliver had kept watch all afternoon, and now it was Carl's turn. At the moment, they were waiting for a shipment to appear.

For cargo important enough to warrant mercenaries of Carl and Oliver's caliber, it naturally wasn't anything ordinary.

This job had even come directly from the Night City Police Department—the police wanted them to