After Carl accepted the advance paynt and confird their willingness to take on the mission, the blue-eyed man ended the call.
"So, Carl, got a plan?" Oliver asked. "Should we go through the usual process?"
"What process? I don't know the Badlands. This ti, we're relying on you—our very own Santo Domingo native."
Since Santo Domingo was close to the Badlands, there was no one in the team who understood the area better than Oliver.
Hearing Carl's words, Oliver—who was already used to Carl making the team's decisions—suddenly realized his mistake. He scratched his head, looking a little embarrassed.
"Yeah, that's on . I must be an idiot, huh? A guy who practically grew up here asking an outsider about this stuff."
"So, what's the deal with these 'Night Stalkers'? Just another Badlands gang?"
"You could call them a gang, but out in the Badlands, most nomads refer to their groups as 'families.' The Night Stalkers... well, if I had to put it simply, you can think of them as the Badlands version of the Maelstrom gang."
"Maelstrom?"
Jack, who had an intense dislike for Maelstrom, took a sip of his soda before scoffing. "So, basically, another bunch of kidnapping, chro-crazy psychos?"
"They're similar, but not exactly the sa. Unlike Maelstrom, they're more obsessed with modding their vehicles rather than themselves. Think of the kind of guys who are car enthusiasts—but crank that obsession up by a factor of ten. You've never seen the shit they drive, Jack. These things look like rolling, creaking chanical porcupines. Every possible kind of modification you can imagine—it's all there."
"Modded vehicles, huh…"
Jack started to get the picture. "So, you're saying their cars might be packing so serious firepower?"
"Pretty much. They're not rich enough to afford things like mounted missile launchers, but you can bet they've got machine guns strapped to their rides. Maybe even a grenade launcher or two. From what I rember, the 6th Street gang had a few run-ins with different Night Stalker groups out in the Badlands—so of them got wiped out easily, others were a real pain in the ass because of their firepower. Honestly, it's hard to predict what we'll be dealing with."
"Wait… Aren't the Night Stalkers all part of the sa group? How the hell is there such a big difference in their gear?"
Carl wasn't familiar with how things worked in the Badlands, so he asked. Oliver explained:
"Rather than thinking of them as one unified gang, it's more accurate to say that a bunch of different people all call themselves 'Night Stalkers.' Supposedly, they're made up of exiles and outcasts from various nomad families, so their backgrounds are all over the place. No central leadership, no real organization. At most, they work together occasionally."
"So… a loose alliance of misfits and renegades who left (or got kicked out of) their nomad families?"
Carl started piecing things together. "That ans even if we find a group of Night Stalkers, there's no guarantee they'll actually know anything about the ones who kidnapped our guy, right?"
"Exactly." Oliver nodded. "This job isn't going to be as easy as it sounds. Taking out so Night Stalkers? That's no problem for us. But finding the right ones? That's the real challenge."
"So this is that guy's way of testing our skills…"
Carl thought for a mont before asking Oliver a key question:
"Do you have any connections in the Badlands? Anyone familiar with the area?"
"I wish I did, but honestly? Don't count on for that."
Carl turned to Jack, but Jack just shook his head. "Yeah, don't look at either. I don't know shit about the Badlands."
With neither Oliver nor Jack having the right connections, there was no way Carl—who had only been in Night City for a little over a month—would know anyone either.
Hell, he barely even knew all the districts in the city yet.
Carl downed his glass of soda in one go.
"We can't just charge into the Badlands blindly like headless chickens. Being reckless in the city is one thing since you guys know the streets, but out there? We'll be driving through unfamiliar territory. If the car breaks down, we won't even know which way to run."
Carl's words hit the nail on the head, leaving Oliver and Jack montarily silent.
Lack of intel was undoubtedly the biggest weakness of their team.
Fortunately, today was their lucky day. Just as the three were deep in thought about what to do next, a familiar voice rang through their squad comms.
"Still there, guys?"
"T-BUG."
Hearing T-BUG's laid-back, casual tone, Carl connected to the squad comms.
"So, you've made up your mind?"
"Of course. One day is more than enough for to think things through. Consider yourselves lucky—you're about to have the best netrunner in Night City watching your backs."
"Welco aboard."
Oliver joined in. "Can I throw in a complint? Among all the netrunners I've seen, none of them even co close to you."
"I'm well aware of my own abilities," T-BUG replied smoothly, with a hint of amusent. "But I wouldn't turn down a bit of extra praise."
"You've joined at the right ti, chica."
Jack chid in, and on the other end of the line, T-BUG raised an eyebrow.
Joined at the right ti? Did that an…?
Just as she was wondering if the team had already landed a job, a transfer notification popped up on her end—15,000 eddies from Carl.
"What's this?"
"Advance paynt—six thousand each. I already sent you the contract details, take a quick look. The full payout for this gig is 150,000."
"Damn, now that's generous."
T-BUG didn't hesitate to accept the money. She took a minute to skim through the job details.
"A Militech engineer got kidnapped, and an anonymous client wants us to rescue him. The ones responsible are the Night Stalkers…"
T-BUG chuckled. "And I'm guessing you guys are lacking intel on the Badlands?"
"Figured it out in one go, huh?"
Carl smirked. "So, got any ideas, T-BUG?"
"It's hard to keep secrets from corpos. And besides them, who else knows the streets better than fixers and gangsters?"
T-BUG explained, "Give a sec. I'm looking into fixers who specialize in Badlands jobs. If we can find one, we can pay them to locate this Night Stalker crew for us. Locals know best, after all."
Classic outsourcing.
But Carl had to admit, it was a solid plan. Even back in ancient tis, generals needed local guides to navigate foreign terrain. Why should their job be any different?
"Now I get why so many rcs retire and beco fixers."
Jack chuckled. "We're sitting here in Afterlife, and Rogue—one of Night City's living legends—was a rc before she beca a fixer. Must feel pretty damn good to go from taking orders to giving them."
"If you live long enough in this line of work, you're bound to build up enough connections. Might as well put them to use, right?"
Oliver shrugged. "If I ever retire, I wouldn't mind becoming a fixer myself."
"Oh, co on, Oliver." Jack scoffed. "You really think retiring as a fixer is that easy? Your old enemies would co knocking before you even set up shop."
"And by then, we'd probably be too old to hold a gun straight," he added with a grin.
"Speak for yourself," Oliver smirked. "Even if I retire, I'll still be landing headshots."
Carl shook his head. "You guys are already thinking about retirent when we haven't even made a na for ourselves yet?"
"In Night City, just making it to retirent is a miracle."
The mont Oliver finished his sentence, T-BUG's voice cut through the comms again.
"Dakota Smith—she's the most well-known fixer in the Badlands. Carl, I've got her contact info. Sending it over now."
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