Players Invade Cyberpunk

For the scavengers.

In some ways, they could be considered indispensable members of Night City.

Just like their nickname implies, scavengers are the lowest decomposers in this city. This doesn't mean they have low status, but rather that they have no qualms, they'll eat anything. Cheap prosthetics are sold to Soviet Petrochemical, organs are sold to major hospitals or Soviet Petrochemical, meat is sold to food processing plants, and even your bones can be turned into anatomy models or refined into drugs from junkie remains to be sold for cash.

They'll sell every single part of your body for a good price.

No matter what other gangs do secretly, at least on the surface, they maintain some decency.

But scavengers need no decency, they don't care about their reputation; they only need money.

Most importantly, whoever needs it can become a scavenger, just like how Mann took Lin Miao's job and posed as a scavenger to make trouble, and no one would doubt if a scavenger would do such a thing.

An abandoned construction site in Coronado, piled high with rusted and teetering scaffolding and various unused building materials.

There are too many places like this in Santo Domingo, so many that even scavengers are fond of them. Most are projects abandoned halfway through construction.

Particularly these structures near the river, directly connected to Night City's underground sewer network, are perfect hiding places for scavengers.

Dump the waste into the river, and all evidence is gone.

"The two new sheep we caught are in good shape, much better than those sickly ones we got before. They should fetch a good price."

The dark and damp abandoned building was divided into labyrinth-like blocks by tin sheds. In one of the tin rooms, two scavengers, one big and one small, were preparing for the upcoming deal.

In front of them was an operating table with the blood not yet cleaned, the new blood covering the old blood, and in many places, it had turned black and scabby.

Beside the operating table were many assorted surgical tools, looking very rudimentary.

"Strange," the big scavenger felt something was off about today's happenings.

"Tying explosives to oneself and wandering the streets, and another one begging us to catch him, could it be bait set by some mercenary or gang trying to screw us over?"

The small scavenger shook his head,

"Mercenaries wouldn't do something so brainless. Didn't you lot just randomly decide to stroll there today? No one could pin it on us."

"Besides, their identities were checked, a wanderer with no background. Probably just came here to do business."

Jianxue Wuming didn't participate in the skirmish with the Tiger Claw Gang the day before yesterday, entered the city yesterday, and got caught today, leaving his background spotless.

The small scavenger picked up a scalpel soaked in disinfectant, equipping it onto his prosthetic limb, preparing the tools for the upcoming surgery,

"Bring the sheep over, they're about to turn into meat anyway. Tell the brothers we'll change locations once this deal is done. These two guys' organs already match the model needed by the biotech side. Even if the king himself comes, he can't stop us."

The small scavenger had performed surgery on tens of people, from civilians to corporate dogs, none of whose original live organs were as good as today's two goods.

The active metabolism rate and health were like that of a newborn, biotech instantly fixated on their goods and was willing to pay tens of thousands for them.

"Got it."

The big scavenger said no more, that price was a few tens of thousands of Euros, more than all the sheep they previously sold combined. He grunted in acknowledgment and left.

Soon, the big guy carried Tutu out from a cellar and threw him onto the operating table, tying him up securely with ropes, handcuffs, and nylon bands.

Compared to Jianxue who knew to call for backup, Tutu acted a bit dumb.

He was the only one in his cellar and thought he could find a mechanism or tool like in movies or escape room games to get out.

But after half an hour, he found not a single hair, only some old bones that were hard to use as weapons.

When the big guy came in, he tried to resist but was put down without trouble.

"What are you doing?"

Only when tied to the operating table did Tutu realize this group intended to slaughter him like a pig.

Yet he was not anxious about it at all.

It wasn't the first time he'd died, might as well use the time to gather some industry insider information.

Judging by appearances, they were likely dealing in live prosthetic trafficking, their skills should be quite good, but they wore optical masks, so he couldn't see their faces clearly.

Tutu tried calling out to the small guy a few times,

"Hey, you over there."

"How do you run your business here, how much can one person sell for? Interested in adding me?"

The small guy ignored him, everyone tied up here would cry, plead, threaten, and try buying their life with money.

But none of it worked; his heart had become as cold as the scalpel in his hand.

"Give him an anesthetic, spare me the chatter, moving around later will just affect my surgery."

The big guy, who was donning a mask and surgical gloves, whispered,

"The anesthetics were used up last time, no time to get new ones."

"..." The small guy was speechless,

"Then use the drugs, the boss gave plenty of money, not short on this."

The drug he referred to was "Glitter," produced by the Tiger Claw Gang, the most popular drug in Night City at the moment, potent with its effects.