Chapter 13: Safe
Beirson sent a private message to Sandayu Oda, then quickly deleted it.
After several corporate wars, banking institutions became one of the hardest-hit sectors. Now, they offer only the most basic deposit, withdrawal, and lending services within Night City. If you're headed to another city, you need to withdraw your funds or transfer them to a national bank—otherwise, your bank card won't be recognized.
Unless you're a high-profile figure, your face won't get you far beyond your local district.
The main reason—beyond war—is the data crash caused by a net virus that fragmented the once-global web into isolated islands of information. Most people are now effectively trapped in their birth city, unable to leave.
Ding~ Payment received: 1,000 euros.
As the notification popped up on his holo, Beirson clenched his fist, his eyes lighting up. A small scavenger den had netted him a thousand euros. What if the scale was larger?
Scavengers sit at the bottom of Night City's criminal food chain—barely organized, operating in loose cells of six or seven. They're less a gang, more a name used to justify whatever crimes they commit. Once targeted and cleared out, no one steps up to defend them.
But dealing with major gangs—like the Tiger Claws or the Sixth Street Gang—is a different beast. They're heavily armed, well-connected, and might even have corpos backing them.
Beirson had no intention of taking them on yet. For now, he'd just skim off the top.
Back at his workstation, Beirson began browsing for his next target.
Everything must be done step by step. That rule applies to surviving in Night City, too. He couldn't report the scav hideout right away—better to wait a few days. That's the city's rhythm. Lay low, blend in. If the tip comes too fast, even a fool would suspect something.
"Hey! Beirson! You up for a drink after work?" Tarkov came over, slinging an arm around his shoulder with a grin.
"Sure!" Beirson smiled back.
"Huh?" Tarkov raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Beirson wasn't known for being sociable—always chasing euros, barely socializing. His only real friend was Tarkov.
Tarkov lived alone in Kabuki, in an actual apartment—an achievement in this hellhole. Same job, same paygrade, no family. Everything he had, he earned by selling intel piece by piece, year after year.
One drunk night, he had told Beirson everything—how to set up burner accounts, how to collect anonymous payments, how to stay invisible. In a way, he had been Beirson's mentor.
"What's got into you today?" Tarkov sat beside him. "Not staying in with your girl?"
Tarkov had decent connections, but Beirson was his closest bro. It was Beirson who helped him adjust to the job, who arranged his parents' funeral.
In Night City, life is fragile.
You could get killed by junkies, zonked-out BD wreath addicts, stray gang bullets, or even go full cyberpsycho from implant overload.
Technology can extend human life over a century, yet the average Night City resident barely lives past 40.
Tarkov's parents were just unlucky bystanders caught in a gang crossfire.
That's why Tarkov started selling intel. He couldn't get revenge, but he could empower others. One day, he met a Security Division contact—they clicked. One had data, the other had firepower.
To corpos, street gangs were walking ATMs. With the right firepower and clean tactics, ops rarely resulted in casualties—unless ambushed or outgunned.
Fueled by vengeance, Tarkov became an informant. His intel helped stabilize Kabuki. He was one of the unsung shadows behind its order.
"Can't sulk forever," Beirson shrugged. "Let's drink. My treat."
"Heh! Don't mind if I do!"
"Order whatever you want!"
---
Kabuki District, Watson. A Basement.
"So what is this thing?"
Aoi Tachibana twirled her lollipop, arms crossed, staring at the black-gold safe inside a transparent signal-blocking box.
"No idea," Sandayu Oda replied, slurping ramen while scanning her terminal. "Nothing online."
That wasn't surprising. Safes were rare in Night City. Even the cheapest ones were out of reach for the average citizen. Most folks didn't own anything worth locking up anyway. Safes like this? They were museum pieces—seen only in textbooks.
"Takumi Kai, did you figure anything out?" Yue Tanaka nudged the silent techie beside him.
Tanaka shook his head. He had some ideas on how to blow the safe open, but unlocking it safely? Not his domain.
"What's Kenomochi Taki say?" Takumi turned back to Sandayu Oda.
"He's busy. Doesn't care about this 'trivial matter.'" She didn't even look up. After learning more about Evelyn Parker, her priorities had shifted. The black-gold safe could wait.
"Of course the boss doesn't give a damn," Takumi sighed. "He probably has something bigger going on."
Normally, Ash would gather them for votes on important matters. But he hadn't shown up for this one.
"His advice was simple—find someone else to crack it. But keep your faces out of it," Sandayu Oda relayed from an encrypted chat filled with coded gibberish. She was the only one who could read it.
Ash might be absent, but he was still listening.
"Captain's always pulling strings," Tachibana muttered. Her first impression of Kenomochi Taki was dead-on: charismatic but calculated. You never knew his angle.
"So, who do we give it to?" Takumi asked.
"Did you hear about Pedro? He got flatlined," Sandayu Oda said.
"Yeah. Biotechnica's most loyal dog," Takumi replied. In Night City, info like that spread fast.
"So... you get the picture?" she smiled faintly.
---
"Is this where she works?" V asked, glancing at the pink neon signage and sultry holograms outside the entrance.
"Mmhmm~" Judy muttered, not wanting to talk about it. "Go in. I'll wait out here."
"You're not coming?"
"I~ wouldn't fit in~"
V didn't press. Might as well go in.
Welcome to Cloudtop.
Warm, hazy air—thick with perfume and smoke—greeted him. The music inside wasn't blaring, but seductive, whispering in your ear with the occasional breathy moan.
It pulled you in.
At the front desk, a blue-haired woman with a perfect bun smiled.
"Welcome to Cloudtop."
"Uh, hey," V looked around. "Nice setup."
"Of course. Cloudtop is Night City's top-tier experience. We fulfill even your deepest emotional needs."
Clearly trained.
"Is Evelyn Parker here? I'm looking for her."
"One moment~" She tapped her terminal. "Sorry, Evelyn's been away recently. I can recommend other dolls. Satisfaction guaranteed."
"I'll see what you've got."
"Please scan your personal terminal."
V frowned. That was like showing your digital ID. Most clubs wouldn't ask—it was a privacy risk.
But for Evelyn, he'd comply.
After scanning, the receptionist loaded up options.
"One male and one female?" She blinked. "You're pan, huh? Classy."
"It's been a while, huh?"
"Choose your match."
"I'll take the lady."
"Understood. Now, select a safeword—it'll end the session if needed."
"In the next life."
"Great~ Please store your weapons. We have a strict no-arms policy."
"You may wait in the lounge, or head to Box Six now. Your companion awaits."
With that, V stepped through the velvet-lit hallway of Genting, one step closer to the truth behind Evelyn Parker.