Chapter 68: Hey, Rogue?
"You—"
Reiner lunged forward, his face red with fury, pointing a finger at Rhys. But Jackie, standing behind Rhys, snagged his wrist and wrenched it back. "Don't you fucking point, pendejo. Or I'll break that finger off."
"Stand down, Reiner," Gunner commanded, his voice steady. The passionate, righteous anger was gone, replaced by a cold stare directed at Rhys.
"Captain, this kid is insulting you! He needs to pay for that!" Reiner hissed. Sure, this 'Rhys' guy had made a name for himself. Everyone knew the story—soloed a Wraith family in the Badlands. No one wanted to mess with a psycho like that.
But that didn't mean he could do whatever he wanted! How many bullets could he take? Even if he could tank pistol rounds, could he tank a sniper? An anti-materiel round? So damn arrogant!
"You want someone to do your dirty work, don't just run your mouth," Rhys said, his voice flat. "You can dress it up however you want, but in my eyes, this is just your gang's internal pissing match. 'Protecting Santo Domingo'? If you really gave a shit about the people, why aren't you hitting the corps? If 6th Street's thousands of gangers stormed a corpo tower, even Militech would feel the burn."
Rhys met the old man's gaze. "Oh, right. I almost forgot. You and Militech are tight, aren't you?"
Even if he wasn't a merc, Rhys wouldn't have helped Gunner. That far-right "patriot" justice was a fucking trap. It was just like the Voodoo Boys, who'd used V and then tried to fry her brain. 6th Street was the same.
If the gig had come through a fixer, no direct contact with the client, maybe he'd consider it after talking with Maine. A gig was a gig. But this? This was a political mess.
Besides, mercs had their own principles. The legendary solo, Sasquatch, was a prime example—she only hit Arasaka. She'd sabotage 'Saka gigs, take anti-'Saka jobs for free. You couldn't say she wasn't professional; she was just true to herself.
"So, what's your price to take this contract?" Gunner asked, shifting tactics. As a Captain in 6th Street's Investigations department, his personal crew was small and not heavily chromed. The fact that Lieutenant Marcus could withhold his cut showed how weak Gunner's position really was. A direct conflict with Marcus would be messy, which was why he'd tried to manipulate Rhys. But the kid hadn't taken the bait. He'd even thrown the 6th Street friendship offer back in his face.
Rhys just looked at him, then raised two fingers to the silver ring at his temple and made a call. After a moment, it connected.
"Yeah?"
"Hey, Rogue. It's me. Got a question for you."
Gunner's eyes went wide. Behind him, Reiner, who had been vibrating with anger, froze, his mouth falling open. Who... who did he just call? Rogue?! As in, THE Rogue?
"Nah, I'm resting up, not really looking for work right now. But sure, if you have something, send it over and we'll take a look," Rhys said casually. "Listen, I'm calling to ask about something else."
Gunner went completely still. A powerful solo in his own right, with a direct line to Rogue... Could he still make a move on him? Yes, but it would have to be in the shadows. Trying to pressure Rhys openly now would be a direct insult to Rogue. And in Night City, even corpo execs had to give Rogue her due, let alone the gangs. Rogue didn't meddle in gang wars, but that didn't mean she was afraid of them. One word from her, a pile of eddies, and a thousand mercs would be at her call.
The Queen of the Afterlife. The biggest fixer in Night City. That wasn't just a title. In the game's "Sun" ending, V became the new King of the Afterlife, inheriting that power and influence. To Gunner, a veteran of the Red-era, Rogue was one of the last living legends. She'd helped bomb Arasaka Tower and lived.
"Yeah, someone wants to hire me to zero a 6th Street lieutenant named Marcus. What's the going rate for a job like that?"
Rhys waited, listening, then glanced at Gunner. "So, not including the fixer's fee... at least six hundred K?"
"Okay, got it. Thanks. See you at the Afterlife later." Rhys hung up.
He looked at Gunner. "You heard her. You want us to take the gig, your starting offer is six hundred thousand eddies."
Gunner was silent. Six hundred thousand... He didn't have that kind of cash. 6th Street was fighting wars on two fronts—the Valentinos in Heywood and the Tyger Claws in Charter Hill. Without Militech's backing, they'd already be losing. And given Gunner's precarious position... he couldn't afford it. Which was exactly why he'd tried to get Rhys to do it for "justice."
Just then, the security bot's speaker crackled to life. It was the doctor's voice.
"Gloria Martinez has been treated and is in stable condition. Will the family of Ms. Martinez please proceed to the fourth-floor recovery capsule hall? She will be waking shortly."
"Repeating, Gloria Martin..."
Rhys looked at David, who visibly sagged, the tension draining out of him. Then Rhys turned back to Gunner.
"Maybe you should come back when you've got the eddies for your little 'justice' project."
Rhys turned and walked away. David scrambled to follow him.
Gunner stood in the hallway, silently watching Rhys's back.