[Koch: Lama, what’s the situation?]
[Koch: Lama, respond!]
[Koch: Project terminated!]
Koch got no response to her ssage for a long ti. Anxious, she paced back and forth in the room, racking her brains but without any clue as to what was happening.
She finally sent a ssage to terminate the project, then started to pack her things, preparing to flee—
She grabbed her bag, not even bothering to turn off the TV and other electronics in the office.
She planned to head to the Biotechnology Building first to deal with the project data on the servers. It was ti to make a run for it.
Click—
The automatic security door opened, and Koch froze—
Two handguns were aid at her chest, three grim and ferocious guys stood at the door.
A sense of fear imdiately rushed to her head, a chill spreading from the top of her skull to her limbs.
V and Jack pressed the barrels of their handguns to her shoulders, pushing slightly, forcing her back.
Lille cracked a small smile, "Good evening, Dr. Koch."
After speaking, he followed her in through the door, which closed automatically.
...
The TV program was still broadcasting.
"So, you caused all this trouble in the heart of Night City for this? Do you have evidence to prove that Biotechnology was behind these things?"
Hector remained silent—they certainly didn’t have any.
The people at Biotechnology weren’t fools; the only evidence was a signed experint contract.
But what could a contract prove?
It was they, the Wanderers, who had signed it themselves, and one of the clauses was "Risk Notification."
To tell the truth, even before Hector was determined, he had been fooling himself into thinking it was just experintal risk, blaming his own folly.
But Lille told him it was not at all part of the experint, that Biotechnology definitely ssed with sothing else causing problems and assured they could find evidence for them.
Seeing Hector silent, Zig Q pressed on, "So... you have no evidence.
Honestly, I do sympathize with what you’ve been through, but you know, everything exists in Evil Land. You might have just contracted so disease from Evil Land.
Who can guarantee you didn’t catch sothing else and bla it on Biotechnology?
Yet, you do such atrocious acts in the center of Night City for such a thing—don’t your consciences... hurt?"
Hector suddenly raised his head, which had been lowered, and stared intently at Zig Q with his bloodshot eyes, causing the flashy host a mont of chill.
But then he thought—before the Wanderer ca on the show, they had ensured he had only an old-fashioned handgun with no bullets.
What could he do?
Hector slowly said, "I’d like to tell my story, a typical Wanderer’s story."
Zig Q glanced at the audience, then said, "Of course, you can."
Hector continued, "Night City sees us as outlaws, but before I was 24, I had never touched a gun."
"What did you do then?"
"Fard, drove, fixed cars, delivered goods long distances."
"What happened when you were 24?"
Hector glanced at Zig Q, then around the audience, and pulled out a handgun from under his clothes, an old-fashioned revolver.
"The year I was 24, I killed a Biotechnology person with this gun.
Funnily enough, this gun has a history. My great-grandfather was said to be a cowboy, and he too killed a sheriff with this gun."
The audience erupted into chaos once more.
So, this Hector had a tradition of being an outlaw, starting from his great-grandfather’s generation.
Zig Q also looked surprised, but sohow for him... the gun seed foreboding.
"...So, you’re a hereditary outlaw. But your parents managed to earn the chance for you to farm properly, so why choose to be a criminal again?"
"That year, most of the crops we were growing died—we grew them ourselves, nothing to do with Biotechnology, and the water was also spoiled.
We were out of money, and Biotechnology ca knocking for debt— the patent fee for Choon-2 wheat. It had increased a lot that year, and we couldn’t pay.
Damn it, who could afford the patent fee for Choon-2 wheat? If it wasn’t for my father’s will, I wouldn’t have wanted to grow it!"
"But that’s still no reason to kill soone! Why would the Wanderers take in a murderer?"
That’s what everyone thought.
Facing the accusations of the audience, Hector fell silent.
Money justifies murder?
Hector felt that lack of money wasn’t a reason to kill indiscriminately; he just felt that he didn’t kill for money.
...
Outside the television, Dr. Koch was forced at gunpoint to sit on the sofa, and Lille sat down as well, right across from her.
The television was playing that program, and Lille gave V a signal with her eyes, prompting the latter to move to the computer and insert a personal link.
A bottle of freshly opened red wine sat on the table in front of them; Lille picked it up to have a look.
"Quite the taste you have, Dr. Koch. Open up system access."
"Listen, no matter what you want, you won’t achieve it. Opposing the company is a death wish!
No matter who’s behind you, you can still turn back..."
Lille’s eyebrows furrowed, and she smashed the glass on the floor beside Koch’s foot.
Crash!
The glass shattered, startling the woman into silence.
"Everyone dies eventually, but if you keep this attitude, I assure you that you’ll die early, like today would be a good day.
You know why we’re here—the Nightingale Project. Tell everything, including the location of the files.
According to what you’ve said, my boss will decide what we should do."
Swallowing hard, Koch was at a loss ntally facing these lunatics.
What kind of madn would storm the Biotechnology Building!
How did they breach so many security asures on the ground floor!
And this person’s...boss?
What exactly did they want?
Everything was a mystery, and the mystery bred fear, which plunged her clever mind into chaos and obliged her to comply under the beautiful golden handgun.
"The Nightingale Project... is a human enhancent experint. The core concept is to increase the electromagnetic sensitivity of nerve cells, fundantally providing a thod of cell adaptation to increase prosthetic connection and response range."
As Koch spoke, she obediently opened up the prosthetic access, and Lille moved beside her to insert a personal link.
In an instant, Koch’s mory of their faces was erased, and her Prosthetic Eye began to show large mosaics when viewing people.
"Continue."
"...We promised the Wanderers of the Red Sedint great benefits if they participated in the experint, but sothing went wrong..."
"What went wrong?"
"...The marketing departnt had a batch of drugs and vaccines they were pushing, and then, well, they poisoned the Evil Land..."
One of Lille’s eyebrows raised: "γ-rabies? Santo Domingo was hit too?"
"How did you know..." Koch suddenly paused.
She had heard that the Six Street Gang had a batch of dicine stolen. Because of this, her business partner asked her about it, asking her to watch the market prices.
Were these the sa thieves?
Koch suddenly realized that perhaps these robbers could be negotiated with—if they were after money.
With an idea in mind, one becos less afraid. Koch continued, "Right, the one who poisoned was Alex Pushkin; he was also in charge of the products.
As a result, the poisoning disrupted the normal progression of the Nightingale Project, which is why people died among the Wanderers."
The look in Lille’s eye grew stranger as she gazed at Koch.
To bolster the believability of her story, this woman didn’t hesitate to lie and betray her own teammates.
Piecing together the puzzle with her understanding of the situation, Lille had a good guess at the actual truth.
Alex Pushkin had persuaded Koch to collaborate, saying they should sell a batch of soon to expire dicine and split the profits. Koch happily agreed, and then the poisoning happened during the Nightingale Project.
The virus sohow infected the subjects of the Nightingale Project, causing problems with the experint, leading to deaths among the Red Sedint populace.
Lille detached the personal link and, watching Hector argue on television, she slowly explained:
"To sell off a glut of dicine and vaccines, you directly poisoned both the city and the Evil Land. A classic corporate dog’s trick.
Only it’s a sha that in this old corporate dog show, you’re the new clown, whose private dealings got in the way of the legitimate business.
In this case, killing you seems to have nothing to do with the company—on the contrary, Biotechnology probably wants you dead too."
Koch felt as if she had fallen into an icy cave; the rationale she had just regained started to slip away rapidly again. Lille had hit the nail on the head with the poison she accused her of planting.
And indeed, Lille’s judgnt was very accurate, as that was exactly the case.
Lille sat across from her and said, "But since it’s co to this, I’ll give you a way out—transfer the transgene editing-cultivation unit here from your headquarters."
Koch looked up, her eyes brimming with disbelief.
There was a sense of celebration of surviving a catastrophe.
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