Cyberpunk: Cross-dimensional Science and Engineering

"This perfect life, the skyscraper collapsed but could be rebuilt again..."

Lille had just woken up to hear V humming "Cool off that Jamaican", which suggested he might have been brainwashed.

Today in Evil Land, it was a sunny day, with the sun shining on the barren land causing painful glare.

Of course, for the people inside the vehicle, especially Lille—who was still lying down—it made no difference.

His whole body ached, sore and tender, he could move like a normal person without a problem, but fighting like a maniac was another story.

But under the influence of "Evolution Heart", his thinking was almost unaffected.

"Where are we now?"

"You're awake?" V hummed, "We've already reached Washington, we'll be meeting the President soon."

"The President, huh? You're quite the joker, trust me, you definitely wouldn't want to meet the President."

"Who says? I'm actually hoping the President will assign me a big job, no worries for the latter half of my life."

"Haha."

Lille found this joke quite funny; if V from a few years later in the original timeline heard this, he would probably beat up the current V.

V turned on the news radio: "We have a bit more to go until the border checkpoint; we need to figure out a way through."

In theory, there shouldn't have been any signal in this place.

However, the Bimong Armored Vehicle came equipped with a small signal booster reception device, which just about allowed them to listen to the radio, though the sound was intermittent.

Atlanta probably never expected someone to listen to city news at the border.

Appropriately, the news being broadcast was pertinent to the two of them:

"Recently, Atlanta experienced a severe attack, and the Military Technology Forces reported an encounter in Evil Land with an attack by Kantao Company, with the attackers identified as Kantao Company's supply chain officer Zhu Shen and Cai Pin.

Both individuals are currently deceased, and Kantao disclaimed any knowledge of their actions and denied any association with the company. APD is following up."

Just as Lille thought, Military Science was a bit clueless, but pinning the blame on Kantao was an unexpected boon.

This would significantly influence the direction of the investigation.

"Thinking about it now, I feel we were really audacious." V laughed after listening, "The entire Atlanta police force is after us, Military Technology, Kantao...

But they don't even know that the one who fooled them is a baldy—oh, not anymore."

Lille didn't feel that the crisis had completely passed: "Actually, they haven't missed their last chance."

"That's true, so let's think quickly about how to fool them a second time."

They still had to get past a wall, a six-meter high border isolation wall.

During the Unification War, Northern and Southern California fought bitterly without any connection, and to emphasize this and prevent the northern wanderers and other parasites from threatening the south, the southerners constructed this wall elaborately.

Southern California, belonging to New America, and beyond this high wall lay Northern California—

the territory belonging to Night City.

Like all other border isolation walls, this place wouldn't provide any warning before opening fire. The only way to go through the border was to honestly pass the border checkpoint.

The checkpoint would scan your face, register your vehicle, and armed drones would track you, sending your coordinates to the orbital rapid-response system.

Getting through the border wall was very, very troublesome, especially for Lille—

since the contract for the border checkpoint was held by the Military Technology Corporation.

Once inside the checkpoint, Military Technology would constantly remind you that this place could turn into a battlefield at any moment.

This was the high wall.

Clunk, clunk, clunk...clunk.

The vehicle made another strange noise.

"Damn, this car has never worked right."

"We need to fix the car." Lille thought for a moment, "Let's stop at a town. We need to ask around for some information."

"The last town before the checkpoint is where we're heading anyway. I was going to stop there for a break—I'm so sick of this sand.

Maybe if I shook myself upside down, I could shake out a couple of pounds of it."

"Then you better shake yourself quickly," Lille forced himself to sit up, "because we now need to impersonate professionals."

"What kind of professionals?"

"Military Science's corporate dogs."

...

V had never imagined that one day he would need to impersonate a corporate dog.

The good news, as Lille said, was that he didn't actually have to wear a suit, but his clothes needed to be neat, zippers, bags, and all.

Corporate dogs might be dirty, but their clothes had to be as tidy as possible.

And lastly, they needed to be assertive.

"Assertive? You say that, and it makes me feel like I'm getting the hang of it, but it still feels odd... are we going to find the sheriff?

What are we doing with him? Can't we just go to a bar? Drink and talk business, and if we don't agree, sort him out a bit."

V shook his head, really shaking out some sand.

The car entered a town called Kushui Creek, a town that probably couldn't muster up even thirty permanent residents.

Nearby was an abandoned oil well. There had been many workers here too, but after a financial crisis and with alcohol displacing oil in the energy sector, many small oil wells were abandoned.

Once the oil well was abandoned, the town declined; the environmental impact of the oil extraction permanently left its mark here, cutting off water sources, making farming impossible for the farmers.

Now there was only a gas station and an automated store left; most people just scraped by, providing some services to passing travelers to earn some living expenses.

Perhaps in the future, this place would eventually be completely abandoned.

The harsh environment of the western badlands really makes one miss the beauty of Atlanta, even if it's just on the surface.

"Ever watched old western films? Never mind, you definitely haven't — anyway, on these lands of Evil Land, they still uphold the traditions of the old United States from over a hundred years ago.

In the town, there's a mayor and a sheriff; for legitimate earnings, you go to the mayor, for other matters, you go to the sheriff.

If we don't go and pay our respects, we'll be seen as rude, or even suspicious.

And right now... we're the 'suit dogs.'

Lille tugged at his clothes — although what he wore was quite proper, casual wear bought from Atlanta, clearly branded.

Adjusting his clothes, Lille straightened his back, instantly hardening his demeanor.

However, given his overly pale and sickly appearance — one should say his demeanor was rather sinister, like those sneaky villains in TV shows.

V glanced at Lille: "You really do look like a 'suit dog,' but you don't let me talk, yet you want me to act haughty, how should I play this role?"

This was indeed a problem. It wasn't that V wasn't haughty, but as soon as anyone with a bit of brains heard her speak, her lack of culture would seep through.

The biggest problem with her playing a 'suit dog' was that 'suit dogs' are usually too educated.

Lille pondered and then said, "Check your account."

Having said that, Lille knocked on the door of Kushui Creek's police station — in reality, it was just a rectangular living unit made of color steel and bricks.

"Come in — it looks like you have some manners, knowing the first thing to do after arriving in town is to find the local sheriff."

The sheriff wore a large-brimmed western cowboy hat and orange sunglasses, his exposed fingers not hiding his meticulously designed prosthetic hands.

Most prosthetic hands are designed to improve shooting capabilities, and clearly, this was the case here as well.

Recoil pads on his grips, to mitigate recoil, it was clear the sheriff favored powerful firearms.

Seeing the newcomers, the sheriff sized up the two — the leader had an expressionless face, just smiling — a very professional sort of smile that was unnerving.

The one behind...

V had just checked her account balance — 500,000 Euros!

Who could be richer than her?

Even if this was a sheriff, he was just a border town sheriff at that.

Once she got back to Night City, she would definitely stay a few days at the Ganbate Tower; this broke sheriff probably couldn't afford a day there...

The more she thought about it, the prouder V became. Facing the sheriff's scrutinizing gaze, she scornfully rolled her eyes — poor fool!

Yeah, she acted like she owned millions — the sheriff thought so, recognizing an ill omen.

On the border, he dealt mostly with various Wanderers, who were either flattering or cautious, and even their haughtiness was just a facade.

This attitude... the sheriff remembered his business trip to Atlanta, those guys had exactly this kind of look.

That inexplicably condescending attitude, along with a smirk but not a smile — similar, too similar.

Although annoyed, the sheriff knew he had to treat them cautiously.

"I'm Andrew Jones. Please, have a seat."

Upon hearing this name, Lille felt a strange sensation surge through his mind —

He knew this name.

In "Cyberpunk 2077," Wanderers start their adventures meeting this sheriff.

So, Lille leisurely sat down in front of Andrew: "A silver shotgun, right? You once served in the special forces, a pleasure to meet you, I didn't expect to see a former military man here."

Andrew's expression immediately brightened —

He always liked to boast about his military career and his unique nickname.

Too bad in this godforsaken place, usually, no one knew about these things.

"That's me. May I know who you two are?"

Lille smiled: "You can call me Dennis Burger King — you know, things have been complex recently. I've heard that a family of Wanderers recently joined the Snake Nation here.

Usually, such changes see a few shortsighted folks seeking private jobs — and that's troublesome because such jobs are tough to track.

Is there anything notable in town? Maybe someone plans to exploit these guys to smuggle some... well, things we're interested in."

A slight change flickered across Andrew's face.

He felt like he was being interrogated now — and this reversal of roles was too smooth.

Oh, the conflict. He wanted more information, but Lille's demeanor made him feel it's best not to ask too much.

Upon reflecting... this person was at least willing to fabricate a name for himself and seemed quite polite.

"Well... I don't handle that, but I suggest you could contact a guy named Willie McCoy, you know, he... has some connections."

"A middleman, huh? These wanderers still have someone covering for them, unbelievable..." Lille shook his head, "Another thing, our vehicle is having some issues, we need a mechanic — do you have someone here who can fix armored vehicles?"

"Armored vehicle? I'm not sure he can fix it, but there's only one mechanic in town, the repair shop is on the outskirts of town, his name is Mike."

"Thank you for your help, sheriff, I'll mention your warm assistance in my report when I get back.

But now, I must return to my official duties."

Without waiting for Andrew to react, Lille stood up and headed for the door.

Andrew felt the conversation was a bit weird — first off, this man had recognized him, which pleased him.

But as his duty demanded, he should have asked more questions, yet now he found he couldn't raise any questions.

Partly because he was somewhat apprehensive, and partly because he was quite willing to help this man — after all, he seemed to come from an important background and showed him respect — even if it might just be on the surface.

Thinking it over, Andrew still said, "Uh... may I know the model of the vehicle you need fixing? I could give Mike a heads up."

Lille opened the door, revealing the black armored vehicle outside, steadfast amid the sand and raging winds.

The line of text inscribed on the cargo area sparkled in the sunlight —

"Military Technology, Bimong Armored Vehicle."