Making It in Night City

BEEEP. BEEEP. BEEEP.

"Fuuuuuuuuuuk... It's too early. Didn't I turn off all my alarms?"

I always hated waking up, especially now that I quit my job and had all the free time in the world. Keeping my eyes closed, I reached my left hand toward the noise source. When I had no luck finding my phone to shut off the alarm, I opened my eyes to find the damn thing. What I saw was a bed that wasn't mine.

If you are reading this, it means that you are reading a novel stolen from the original author. If this is left in by whoever stole my work, you'll know their a big dummy and didn't recognize the massive out of place blank space as hidden white text. If you want to support me, the original author, and read ahead for free, you can find me on scribblehub under SPS4. 

"That's right. I'm not in my world anymore. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed."

I groaned and closed my eyes, hoping it might just be a bad dream. If I opened my eyes again, maybe I would wake up in my old room. No such luck. All that greeted me was the same foreign room. My phone was still beeping, reminding me I had a meeting to get to.

Picking up the strange slab of glass phone, I unlocked the screen and shut the alarm off. I got off the bed and went into the shower to clean up. Getting into the one-person shower, I pushed the button to activate the water nozzle. Immediately my balance showed up, and E$ 10 was transferred from my account. After the amount got subtracted, water started flowing out of the showerhead, and a projector showed a timer with 15 minutes on it.

"Holy shit. Do I have to fucking pay for a shower?"

I had to pay for water usage in my world too, but a device never had to be paid to be activated. This is more of a hotel room than it is my apartment.

I'm pissed about this situation, but I also don't want to waste any of my 15 minutes, so I started to scrub my body.

After my rushed shower and getting dressed, it was already 7:30, which only gave me 30 minutes before I needed to meet with Wilson. I hastily left my apartment and locked the door behind me. On the way to the garage, I saw several members of the Tyger Claws. These gang members with loud tattoos are the dominating criminal force in Watson and Westbrook.

I didn't pay attention yesterday since I was in a rush, and my mind was in chaos, but now I remember that Megabuilding H8 is Tyger Claws' territory. I don't necessarily have issues with the gang, but I must be careful around them. It also reminded me that it wasn't just mega corporations I had to watch out for, but gangs as well. 

The Tyger Claws were just one of the many gangs in NC, and they all had a penchant for violence and cruelty. I can solve my money problem quickly, but security will be a more challenging issue. I could fall in line with one of the gangs, but that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 

The Mox is the only gang that is strictly protective and doesn't dabble in activities that stray from my morals. But they only protect people who work for them, and I'm not too keen on breaking into the sex industries. Oh well, that's a problem for future Basil.

I kept my head down and avoided the Tygers as much as possible. Once inside my van, I pulled out my phone and got the navigation app to take me to Megabuilding H10.

The drive to Wilson's shop was uneventful. There's a strange calm you can only get in the city. Watching everybody hustle with purpose, utterly oblivious to one another, each contributing to the collective workforce that keeps the city running. It's like watching ants march around collecting food for the hive.

The drive was much faster than the bus since I didn't have to stop to pick people up. It only took 15 minutes to get into the building, and by the time I found a parking spot, I still had 10 minutes until the meeting time.

Getting out of my van, I opened the rear doors and ensured all the ammo was still there. I brought 200 rounds each of the pistol ammo and 100 rounds each of the rifle ammo. I stacked them on each other and carried them using my chest and abdomen as a backboard. I then shuffled awkwardly to the elevator and hit the screen to take me to floor 7. I probably should have used one of the folded cardboard boxes in my van. Oh well, hindsight is 20-20.

Once the elevator deposited me on the 7th floor, I turned right and started to look for the gun store. It didn't take long for me to recognize the familiar sign for the 2nd Amendment, and I started making my way to it. Once inside, I saw a young lady with half-shaved pink hair leaning on the counter, talking with Wilson.

"You have my piece ready, Wilson?"

"Yeah, V. Got it right here. Tuned the trigger reset, polished the feed ramps, and gave it a full-service cleaning. Better than new."

Wilson then took out a custom M-10AF with a gold trigger, barrel, and front assembly. The woman picked up the pistol to inspect it and nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks. You're the best."

Apparently, I just met V. Small world. V then holstered what I can only assume to be the Dying Night iconic pistol and walked out of the store.

Once V left, Wilson noticed me and waved me over to his counter.

"Good morning, Sir. Never seen your face before. What d'ya got there?"

"Good Morning, Mr. Wilson. I'm Dakota Rogers. You can just call me Basil. I'm with the company you contacted for a test batch of ammo. Got 'em all right here, ready to go."

Never have I seen a fat man move so fast. He was out of that stall and guiding me into the gun range like his business depended on it. Hell, it probably was. In the game, his gun store struggled to profit, even resorting to weird promotions like a shooting competition. If My ammunition was as cheap and as good as my spam email said, he could offer some of the most affordable ammo without cutting corners.

Once inside the gun range, he pulled out an M-10AF, Nue, Overture, M221 Saratoga, and HJSH-18 Masamune. He also unloaded a collection of tools, ranging from calipers to electric scales. What followed was one of the most detailed assessments of anything I've ever seen.

Wilson took a handful of each ammo type to weigh them and take the measurements. Then he disassembled them to do the same with each individual component. He only fired a single bullet forty minutes into the testing.

The firing test was similarly anal, with him first taking measurements of the velocity and accuracy on target. This was followed by function checking by rapid firing the rounds to check for any manufacturing issues. To my glee, not a single problem arose during the firing test. All rounds went bang when they should have, and not a single one caused a jam.

Once all the ammunition was fired, Wilson tabulated all the results and turned to me. I could see that he was trying to maintain a poker face, but the excitement was starting to show. This must mean the results were excellent, a good position to be in to make a sale.

"Ammunition passes my inspection. I'm willing to buy in bulk if you offer discounts for large quantities."

Here it is, negotiation time. Time to become a shrewd salesman.

"Come on, Wilson. Your reputation precedes you. I know how strict your standards are. I also know my product is top-notch stuff. They don't have fancy bullets, but the consistency is out of this world. The price I'm offering is already a deal."

I let my statement stew for a bit. I did a little research before sending out the emails and robocalls. The prices I was offering should be under what any other manufacturer offered to smaller businesses. I was willing to offer lower prices since selling them for pennies would still be a profit, but nobody needed to know that. I also wanted something else out of this deal. I'm not running a charity, after all.

I could see the gears turning in Wilson's head, and just before he was about to say anything else, I offered a new deal to him.

"Tell you what, Wilson. I like you. You take pride in what you do. How about this? I'll offer you another five percent discount if you offer me a 10% discount on anything I purchase from you."

"Seven percent and you have a sale."

"I'll take it. But only if you advertise to other gun stores as well. I know you have connections. I'll sweeten the pot as well. Whenever someone new you refer buys more than 2000 Eddies worth of ammo from me, I'll give you 5000 rounds of 9mm for free."

Wilson liked the sound of that, and we immediately shook to the deal. Afterward, we hammered out the details, and I left his shop. The current agreement is that I will only provide him ammo when he needs it, and if sales go well, we will switch to a monthly plan. I'm technically selling this ammo without a license, but Wilson didn't ask, so I'm not telling. What's the harm anyway? It's not like I'm not planning on getting the proper work done.

He already paid me E$ 9500 worth of ammo to deliver tomorrow at noon, bringing up my balance to just over E$ 13000. Once I get the money from canceling my lease, I'll have just under 26000 Eddies. That'll be more than enough to buy the equipment to begin the next step of my plan. 

Ecstatic about the sale I just made, I hummed the toon to Pharrell's Happy and made my way to the parking lot. Time to go dumpster diving.