The two of them walked into the venue. Most of the people around them were discussing the shooting at the Dewdrop Inn.
Everyone had heard the blast. It had been so loud that people thought Santo Domingo had suffered the kind of explosion that had hit Watson District, leaving everyone on edge.
There were other bizarre things, too.
"Thank you for your boyfriend's contribution to the unification of the United States. He died heroically in the terrorist attack on Martin Luther King Street.
"We've verified that you're the kid's last living relative. Tsk. Based on his rank, your total compensation comes to 500 eddies.
"Got it? Huh?!"
V saw a Sixth Street member handing out "death benefits" by the side of the street. It seemed the Dewdrop Inn had indeed taken out quite a few Sixth Street boys.
But they actually paid death benefits?
The Sixth Street soldier was getting impatient, and for a very simple reason: a man was standing beside the "widow."
The woman took the news like a bolt from the blue, then turned and began sobbing as she burrowed into the man's arms. She didn't answer the Sixth Street member's question.
The soldier immediately roared, "Are you deaf? I asked if you got it! You fucking bitch!"
The man and woman jumped at the shout. The woman's tears were sucked right back into her tear ducts:
A special skill of Cybernetic Humans: because they had cheap Cyberware installed in their faces, being startled could cause negative pressure in their tear ducts.
"I heard you!" The woman wiped her tears. "I'll use this money to live well, but how long will 500 eddies last?"
How long would 500 last? That was a good question.
By Night City standards, it was more than enough to buy a life.