Chapter 62: Complications Are Never Far Away
Whether that hospital was really in bed with the Scavs was a hot topic on the street nets, but one thing was certain: for those EMTs in the yellow jackets, Gloria included, a 'poor patient' was just another opportunity to make some eddies on the side.
Did Gloria really die from the car crash?
The answer was obviously no. Rhys remembered the scene from the anime clearly. When she was lying on the ground, she had no visible external trauma, no pools of blood. Trigger, the animation studio, wasn't even being subtle; they were telling you outright that something was fubar.
And think about it. It was 2076. In an age where blade wounds, gunshot trauma, missing organs, and heart damage could be fixed, Gloria died in a hospital from relatively minor injuries? If she'd died because she couldn't afford the treatment, that would be one thing. But to be harvested by Scavs...
But that couldn't be right either. Rhys had originally assumed she'd been taken to a Scav den and stripped for parts. But after five years in Night City, especially with the Mox, he knew the rules of the street. Santo Domingo was 6th Street turf, and Arroyo was their goddamn backyard, marked with their tags on every corner. Scavs had no reason, and no balls, to run an operation in 6th Street's territory. Those human-rats usually stuck to the chaos of Watson or parts of Heywood. You rarely, if ever, saw them in Santo.
But 6th Street... let's be real, what gang was full of good people? Even the Mox, a supposed 'mutual aid society,' had plenty of blood on their hands. 6th Street, with their military structure and warlord-style command? They were far from saints. There was a gig in the game where V had to rescue someone from a 6th Street "party," which turned out to be a bloodbath.
Point is, if this wasn't handled carefully, it could easily drag them back into a conflict with 6th Street.
Rhys ended the call. The rest of the crew looked over, all of them frowning. "What's wrong?"
After spending time with him, they'd learned to read Rhys. He was the opposite of most people. When a normal person was screaming and cursing, they were at their worst. When Rhys cursed, it meant he was actually relaxing. But when he was this cold and quiet... it meant he was genuinely pissed off. Pilar, street-smart as he was, had noticed this first.
Seeing Rhys's flat, emotionless expression as he made that threat, Maine knew something was up. Rhys's problem was the crew's problem.
"David's in trouble," Rhys explained. "He's okay, but Gloria's unconscious. The EMTs are taking her to a hospital in 6th Street territory."
"Fuck! You mean that run-down dump that looks like a garbage compactor?" Maine exploded. "Are you kidding me? A civilian gets taken there? You think those 'doctors' will actually treat her? They're butchers, not surgeons!"
"How'd she end up there?" Dorio added. "That place is basically a 6th Street front, a money-laundering op. With Gloria's connections, shouldn't she be at the regional hospital?"
"No eddies," Rhys said simply.
"Broke? How? Her kid goes to Arasaka Academy! That uniform alone costs thousands!"
"He's right, she's broke," Rhys said, looking at Maine. "That piece of chrome she was selling you? She hasn't been paid for it yet."
Maine froze, the realization dawning. "So that's why she was selling it cheap... and why she contacted me." The mysterious chrome dealer, suddenly revealing herself... Maine had thought he was just a smart negotiator. Turns out, Gloria was just desperate for cash.
"So, Rhys, what's the play? I like the kid, David. And Gloria... she's useful to us," Maine said, already decided. Even if she wasn't useful, Maine liked the kid's moxie. That was enough.
"I told the EMT to take her to the Santo Domingo regional hospital. I don't trust corps, but I trust a corpo-run hospital more than a gang-run one. At least there, money talks," Rhys said, pushing himself to his feet.
"Let's go. We're all going," Sasha said immediately, standing up with him.
"But Vick..."
"Don't worry about me. Helping people is more important," Vick called out from across the room, his back to them as he sorted materials. He'd already finished his call with Pilar. "Go. Come back later. I'll keep this stuff safe for you."
"Damn, Vick. You're a real one," Maine said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.
"Keeps me in business, doesn't it?" Vick chuckled.
"Let's move, Rhys. Time's wasting." Jackie was on his feet too, already cracking his knuckles. He'd heard Maine's stories about David—a timid kid with a good heart. A rare thing in this city. Just like me, Jackie thought.
Rhys nodded. The crew filed out of the basement, giving a quiet nod to Misty on their way out the back alley. As they piled into the cars, Maine spoke over the comms. "Santo Domingo regional, right?"
"Right," Rhys confirmed. "But Maine... I've got a bad feeling about this. You guys haven't forgotten our last run-in with 6th Street, have you?"
"Fuck!"
"Don't say it. I'd almost managed to forget that."
"Yeah... that Janus gig. We zeroed a lot of their people. But they shouldn't know it was us. That EMT wouldn't dare cross you right now."
Rhys didn't answer, just nodded. But a nerve in his temple was twitching.
And in his mission log, the [Reshape Worldview] gig was a stark reminder that this... this wasn't going to be simple.
He stared out the window. Night City... a place where complications are the only guarantee.