Jackie's tone was serious, prompting V to quickly switch to the camera Jackie was viewing.
And immediately after, looking at Jackie's screen, she also frowned.
Holy shit!!!
"What is this? Defensive Turrets? Why would a casino have something like this?"
V frowned, looking at the two cold, metallic turrets in the dark room shown on the monitor.
For a casino, wasn't this level of security system a bit excessive?
Where is this place?
After looking at the two turrets, whose infrared lasers swept rhythmically, V scanned the room before her.
It was pitch black, lit only faintly by the hallway light. In the gloom were scattered wooden crates and metal racks, and a dark passage leading underground was clearly visible.
"There's a basement here?"
Jackie also noticed the anomaly, spotting a staircase leading down behind the path guarded by the two turrets. He hadn't seen it immediately because the light was too dim.
"Are there any surveillance cameras that can see the basement?"
V didn't think much of it; having a basement wasn't strange. However, the basement must be very important if the casino's people had specifically installed Defensive Turrets to guard it.
Maybe a vault or something.
V guessed.
However, after searching the surveillance system and checking every camera, V couldn't find one that showed the basement interior.
"Suspicious."
V shook her head and gave up the search.
"Eh, it's nothing. Two Defensive Turrets, and only two of them. They won't stop us."
Noting the location in his mind, Jackie stated that this wouldn't be hard to solve.
Meanwhile, V had found something else of note.
"Jackie, do you know why they call themselves the 'Motorcycle Gang'?"
"Hmm... because they ride motorcycles?"
"Exactly. Look at camera four."
Jackie obediently switched to camera four and saw an empty area with good lighting. Judging by the location, it appeared to be the parking lot behind the building.
The parking lot was cluttered with many different types of vehicles, and most importantly, many Motorcycles painted in various colors, guarded by a few gang lackeys.
V and Jackie now understood why this gang was called the Motorcycle Gang.
V's sapphire-blue eyes darted around, and an idea immediately struck her.
Two people fighting dozens required a bit of skill.
And the key to this skill lay in those Motorcycles.
If they blew up the gang members' treasured Motorcycles, it should cause chaos in their base.
At that point, it would naturally be much easier for them to act.
Therefore, before negotiating, V prepared to add a layer of insurance to this mission.
"Jackie, see those cars? We're going to play Santa Claus and give them some special Christmas gifts."
V nodded, confirming the plan.
"What are you planning to do, V?"
Jackie felt curious and asked.
"I have high explosives in my trunk. We'll plant them in their vehicles. If things go south, we'll detonate them directly, blowing half the parking lot sky-high, Shaking the Mountain to Scare the Tiger, and forcing these guys out of their den."
"Hmm, that has potential."
"Then let's get moving."
Seeing Jackie agree, V prepared to start the operation.
V drove around the building to the back. This area faced the semi-enclosed parking lot, where they could see the open roller door and a few thugs guarding the area.
"Jackie, you're responsible for distracting these guys, and I'll handle planting the explosives in the parking lot."
"Alright, let's start!"
Jackie rubbed his hands together, already impatient.
The two got out of the car.
The air outside the car was still foul, carrying an unmistakable smell of sulfur—an old characteristic of Night City.
V retrieved the explosive package from the trunk—a small, plastic sealed object about the size of a handbag. This thing was perfectly adequate for blasting open doors and was essentially a must-have item for Mercenaries who specialized in being 'gentlemen on the roof' (thieves/burglars). V kept some hidden in her trunk too.
Thanks to the appallingly low salary levels of Night City's NCPD officers, they generally avoided strenuous and life-threatening tasks like vehicle inspections. After all, given Night City's security standards, who knew whose trunk might be packing a rocket launcher?
For a few bucks a month, why bother asking for trouble?
V sighed thankfully.
She strapped the explosive package to her waist and prepared to sneak into the parking lot.
Meanwhile, Jackie was preparing his operation to distract attention for V.
He coughed twice, straightened his collar, checked his face in the rearview mirror, practiced a few expressions, and then started his move.
"It's dead quiet today. We should find something fun to do."
In the open space in front of the parking lot, three or four Motorcycle Gang members covered in colorful tattoos stood in a circle, puffing on cigarettes, feeling relaxed as their eyes swept over the sparsely populated street scene.
This was a rare moment of leisure, so they were just idly chatting and joking around.
"Hey, did you hear? Theodore seems to have gotten some hardcore braindance footage. We should borrow it later when we're free to get our fix."
"Yeah, I think so. They say it's produced by 'Black Moth.' It's the hard stuff you rarely see on the market."
Hearing the mention of braindance, the men all perked up.
The lives of gang thugs were actually quite boring: cheap alcohol, drugs, sex dolls, and virtual hardcore braindance to get through the days.
After all, they only sought things that stimulated the senses; their brains, long rotted by alcohol and drugs, couldn't handle anything more complex.
However, at that moment, a large man with unsteady steps walked toward them.
"Hey, brothers."
The newcomer was Jackie.
He was now sweating profusely, scratching his neck, and looked completely addicted.
"Do you guys have any cheap stuff? Sell me a little to scratch this itch!"
Jackie looked at the colorful-haired thugs with a fawning smile, like a gentleman high on drugs.
"Get lost! Can't you see we're f***ing busy? Go play somewhere else!"
Seeing Jackie approach, one thug looked impatient and raised his hand to shoo him away.
He came to them looking for Pills? Couldn't he see they were on guard duty?
"Hehe, just do me a favor, man. This craving is really getting painful."
Jackie continued his performance, scratching his neck and ears, truly looking like someone whose addiction had flared up.
Although he wasn't a drama major, examples like this were everywhere on the street. Since childhood, he could see seven or eight junkies just by stepping out to use the restroom. Now, mimicking them was incredibly easy.
"Hold on, don't get excited. This is business." However, not everyone was unwelcoming to Jackie; another thug stopped his colleague who was about to lose it.
Low-level gang members in Night City were often independent drug peddlers. They used drugs themselves and sold them to earn pocket money.
They usually sold to high school students, white-collar workers, and laborers—people who didn't have access to supply channels. Naturally, they added a markup, as this was a way to make money.
You never knew how much money those high students would fork over for a fix. The dealers were experts at reading people—they had a different price for everyone, ripping off the naive ones the most. After all, those guys were desperate when the craving hit.
The thug glanced at Jackie, noticing his defined muscles and tattoos, and figured he was someone who ran in the same circles and was somewhat knowledgeable. He decided to give him a break this time; a 30% markup would be enough.
"We have everything: 'Pills,' 'Red Dust'—a little of both. The price might be a bit high, but the purity is guaranteed."
Seeing their companion about to sell the guy drugs, the others stopped causing trouble and just smoked quietly nearby.
"Hey, no problem, just for an emergency, right? Wait, let me check... Uh, f***, I forgot my cash! I'm so sorry!"
The deal was almost done, but Jackie, the buyer, checked his pockets, feigned annoyance, showed an apologetic expression, shook his head, and walked away.
"F***, what the hell was that? If you're not buying, don't ask! Psycho."
The thugs realized Jackie was just messing with them, immediately flipped him off, and cursed continuously.
But they failed to notice that while they were shouting, the ghost-like figure of V had already climbed over the wall and slipped into the parking lot through the open roller door.
"Thanks, Jackie."
"No problem, V. Messing with these street thugs is like playing with dogs!"
V nodded, said nothing, and crouched low, maneuvering past the parked vehicles, ready to find a spot to plant the explosives.
But then, a sudden, loud commotion erupted, causing V, who hadn't yet managed to untie the explosive package, to quickly pull back and hide behind an SUV.
"What's wrong? V, trouble?"
Jackie heard the noise from V's end of the comms and asked anxiously.
"Wait, something's happening."
V said nothing more, only observing the movement ahead from behind the car.
The side door of the parking lot opened, and two thugs carried out a badly bruised guy. With a heave, they violently tossed the man they were holding, sending him crashing onto the ground.
"F***! You dare welch on a debt here? Do you f***ing have a death wish!"
The two thugs looked vicious, clapped their hands, and spat several curses at the man in the suit, who was curled up in pain on the ground.
"Your stuff is confiscated here. Hurry up and f***ing raise the money! If you don't pay your debt within three days, don't blame us for collecting it from your home, you trash!"
The two thugs walked away cursing, leaving only the gambler groaning in pain on the ground.
"V?"
Jackie, on the other end, grew anxious when V didn't reply.
"It's nothing. Just internal casino business, a minor unexpected situation."
V came to her senses and told Jackie to relax.
"F***!"
This cry didn't come from V, but from the desolate middle-aged man. He struggled to catch his breath, knelt up, and screamed in pain, his bruised and swollen face contorted as he slammed his fist onto the ground.
But after that, there was no more commotion. He swayed back and forth for a moment, then struggled to his feet, desolate, and staggered away like a zombie in a dusty suit.
V shook her head and refocused.
Just another gambling addict.
She certainly had no sympathy for guys like that.
That miserable look wasn't regret over his gambling habit, but regret over why he hadn't bet on the other side just now.
How to put it? Gambling dogs don't die well. That's just how it is.
Ignoring the interlude, V took advantage of the lack of people, walked over to the neatly parked, gleaming Motorcycles, and tucked the explosive package onto one of the bike's engines.
The power of the high explosives ensured that the surrounding vehicles would also be turned into scrap metal, so V was confident.
Afterward, V slipped out the way she came in and met up with Jackie in a nearby alley.
"So, are we still going in to negotiate with these guys? If you ask me, we should just detonate the bomb, grab our guns, and wipe them all out."
Jackie gestured with his hands, suggesting his method was safer.
But V shook her head after hearing him.
She had her own perspective.
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