Chapter 7: Chapter 7 – One Man’s Trash

+NEW JOB

EYES AND EARS

• Plant spying devices in the Afterlife
• Plant spying devices in Lizzie's Bar
• Plant spying devices in Wakako's pachinko Parlor

Once I started scheming how to keep my fingers on the pulse of the underworld, I got a notification giving me a new mission. My plan for keeping an eye on V and how the world is progressing is to plant small surveillance devices in critical locations. Since following V would take too much effort, my best bet is to keep an eye on the places where the plot advanced. But that's something for the near future. Now I have to focus on getting crafting components.

South-East of Night City proper is a massive landfill, a literal mountain of junk. Did you think living on the edges of Night City was terrible? Try living outside of Night City. The bright side, at least for me, is that now I have an easily accessible source of materials, and no one will miss anything I break down.

The drive took roughly twenty minutes. On the way over, I picked up a set of heavy-duty anti-puncture gloves, face masks, and some work boots. I don't know what kind of diseases will be hidden in the garbage, but I'm not planning on finding out after getting pierced by a dirty needle.

I got dressed in the back of the van, picking out a pair of thick jeans and a light windbreaker to protect the rest of my body. Once adequately outfitted, I got out and stared at the sea of trash in front of me. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. I didn't know it was possible for me to feel impressed and disgusted simultaneously.

Once I was done gawking, I walked to the mountain's base and started pulling items into my inventory. I did have a weight limit, but junk weighed nothing like in the game. Components and ammo also didn't have a weight associated with them.

There were also several rules on what was junk and what wasn't. First, the item can't be organic. So half-eaten tacos do not count as junk. Second, there is a size limit on what is junk and what isn't. For example, an old dryer is not junk, but an ashtray is. The rule of thumb seems to be if you can't carry it with one hand, it isn't junk.

After a bit, I got into a groove and figured out the fastest way to transfer items into my inventory. I would have my two hands out and skim them across the surface of the trash, putting anything that is junk into my inventory. Anything that gets left out would be thrown to the side.

I don't know what I was expecting, but there was some seriously nasty stuff here. The more I dug around, the more I wished I got a full hazmat suit instead of some basic protective gear.

This process continued until noon when I had to stop because my stomach and body were protesting the amount of work with no rest or food. Having worked up a sweat, I checked my inventory and grinned at the having just under 4000 pieces of junk in my inventory. I then got back into my van and broke everything down into components.

With the Mechanic skill, my 4000 pieces of junk turned into 4800 components. I then turned the components into the ammo necessary to fulfill Wilson's order. This process took another couple of hours, and by the time I was finished, I managed to progress my crafting skill to level 6.

Getting my crafting skill to level 6 gave me one more perk point, a ten percent reduction in crafting cost, and unlocked several uncommon crafting recipes for clothes and guns. If I ever decide to start selling weapons or create my own faction, I can now make the weapons for cheap.

After a quick debate with myself, I then put the perk point into the Scrapper perk, which automatically scraps any junk in my inventory. The other perk I considered was the first tier of the Workshop perk, which gives me a five percent chance of getting an extra component every time I disassemble something. At the end of the day, saving hours of dissembling is more beneficial than a few additional components.

Happy with my haul today, I started the van and made the short drive north toward the sunset motel. On the way, I remembered that I still had to cancel my lease, and I called property management to start the process. After waiting through the automatic answering machine and the elevator music, an older man picked up my call.

We went through the regular crap. You know, 'Oh. We're sorry to see you go' and 'Is there anything we can do to keep you?'. But once he realized I was dead set on leaving, he scheduled an inspection and told me about the terms. Since I have already moved out and emptied the place, the inspection will happen tonight, and they will let me know what they find tomorrow.

I arrived at the sunset Motel only a few minutes after the call ended. This dinky little place was where I unsuccessfully tried to romance Panam Palmer. I chuckled to myself as I thought about how awkward it seemed when I suggested only renting one room and kept dropping hints. Panam powered through them like a freight train, keeping me at arm's length.

Panam was easily my favorite character in the whole game. She was a creation of circumstance. She was tough because of the environment she grew up in and rebellious because she wanted to change for the better. But most importantly, she always kept her family at the center of her heart.

Heading upstairs and into the same bar where Panam and V celebrated their first successful mission. Sitting down on a stool, I waved over the bartender and asked for some food.

"Got any food lying around? I'm starving here."

"Well. I ain't got much, but I can't heat you a few slices of pizza if you'd like."

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"I'll take four slices of pizza and a can of NiCola."

After paying the man, he opened a small fridge and took out four slices of frozen pizza. Three minutes later, I was wolfing down the makeshift meal. The bread tasted like cardboard, and the cheese had a strange plastic texture, but it was cheap, so I can't complain.

While I ate, Panam and her family still occupied my mind. You meet her first while trying to find Anders Hellman, the corpo responsible for directing the Arasaka Relic project. You help her by icing someone who double-crossed her, then she helps you and knocks Hellman's AV out of the air. Quid pro quo.

It just so happens that Panam's friends also saw the AV and went to the crash site to try to help the survivors and salvage parts. The survivors on-site confused Panam's friends for the attackers and killed all but one of them. I don't know if it was my fondness for Panam or my romanticism for the nomad lifestyle, but seeing her freak out and her dead friends bummed me out.

Fuck it. Sooner or later, I'll have to get involved with the plot. Why not now? Let's give her a little tip to steer her in the right direction.

"Hey barkeep! Thanks for the meal. Got a second?"

"Sure. What can I do you for?"

"I'm looking for a solo by the name of Panam Palmer. Got a job that is right up her alley. You happen to have her contact?"

After giving me the once over, the bartender's eyes glowed a soft blue, and Panam's number was registered in my phone. I thanked the man again for the food and information and walked out. Once I got back into my van, I called Panam while driving back to the shop.

"Who the hell are you, and how did you get my number?"

Yup. There's the Panam I know and love.

"A hello would have been nice. Name's Basil. I'm a friend. You still have the job moving goods for 6th street with Nash?"

"What's it to you?"

"Your buddy Nash ain't who he says he is. He's a Wraith, and he's planning on double crossin-"

Before I could finish my sentence, I got cut off by Panam.

"Listen here, 'Friend'. Do you think I was born yesterday? I'm not going to call off a job because some stranger told me to. You'll stay out of my way if you know what's good for you."

"Wai-"

Panam hung up on me before I could get anything else in. When I tried to call again, my phone showed the user had blocked me.

"Well. That could have gone better."

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