The owl had been seen by several people; some had tried to catch it, but all had failed and, in return, received what could only be described as the most humiliating expression of superiority they'd ever seen on a bird's face.
Even if it was the only one they'd ever seen.
Its final destination?
It became the city's latest attraction — the Tree of the Damned.
Coincidentally, the land of the abandoned All Food factory where it grew had been purchased by Naturtal&Co for a laughable price before anyone from City Hall could contact the original owner.
They missed their acquisition window by just seven minutes.
Said owner (now ex-owner) was happily counting the money when he discovered he could've gotten thirty times what the company paid. He tried to sue and get the property back, but hadn't read the fine print during the land transfer and had no legal ground to stand on.
As expected, Naturtal&Co filed a countersuit the moment the first case was closed — and won in three days, getting their money back from the greedy man. With interest.
And so, the city's new attraction began generating money for Faelan and Kiwi essentially for free — nowhere near what they earned from organic ingredient trade, but every bit helped.
At the highest point of the tree, nestled in its canopy, were several owl nests with eggs. As for their food, there were enough insects to go around.
At the moment, Faelan was in his "lab" inside the company building, accompanied by his friend and head of security.
"So, is this one of your new money-making ideas?" Kiwi was holding what looked like a gemstone in her hand, but it was the size of an orange. "This is…"
Dorio was holding one too, studying its weight, reflections, and texture with curiosity.
"Fossilized resin," Faelan explained as he pulled out more large pieces and laid them on the table. "In other words, amber."
"You can speed up resin fossilization too?" Kiwi looked at the amount of amber, unsurprised at this point — she'd already suspected something when she saw him collecting resin cubes from the inner trees. "Sure, we could launch an exclusive jewelry line, but… this is a lot of amber just to make a few flashy necklaces. What else did you have in mind?"
With a couple of pieces like the one in her hand and a skilled gem cutter or a specialized machine, they could make enough jewelry to fill a storefront. They'd just need to stock up on silver, gold, and other precious metals.
"Actually, the idea came to me last Tuesday thanks to Dorio," he said, rummaging behind the table with the sound of various objects clattering.
"Me?" Dorio pointed at herself in confusion.
"Yup." Faelan found what he was looking for and slowly placed it on the table, covered with a cloth — clearly going for dramatic effect. "Weren't you complaining about how implants looked ugly? Well, here's my answer," he said, unveiling it.
"Wow!" Dorio exclaimed.
Kiwi, more pragmatic, ran a finger over the surface of the object.
"Those are… implants with amber inlays?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. "But this amber feels different."
The demo model was a standard gorilla arm, easy to find. But unlike the usual versions with metal finishes or fake synthetic skin, this one had elegant rows and curves of amber embedded across the arm, branching along it and giving it a much cooler, exclusive appearance.
"Like with gemstones, many factors determine whether it's 'high-grade' or 'cheap' amber," Faelan explained, placing an amber orb next to the implant. "This one here is 'premium amber,' and this one is 'cheap amber,'" he said, pointing to each respectively. "The expensive one we'll use for jewelry — and maybe implants too, if someone pays enough for VIP service — while the cheaper one will go into external or aesthetic implants."
"For potential damage and easier replacement?"
Faelan turned to Dorio with a surprised look.
"Exactly," he nodded, pulling out another object and placing it on the table. "With the number of trees we have on company grounds, we can harvest ten of these a month — no more, if we want to give the trees time to recover and keep producing," he said, tapping what could only be described as a solid amber ingot. "Cheap amber is easy to make. The premium stuff's trickier and takes more time."
"What are their raw market prices?" Kiwi asked with interest.
Faelan handed her a sheet filled with numbers and estimates he'd put together after some basic market research — nothing professional, but enough to get the picture.
"Even the cheap amber costs a bit," Kiwi said, reviewing the numbers. "But it's something show-offs can afford. Now, premium amber? That's seriously profitable. Still, I can't help but notice you're producing way less of it," she pointed out. "Is that due to production limits, or are you playing the market?"
"Honestly? Both. Plus, I don't want to invest too much of my personal time in this," Faelan said without hesitation. "Rarity means value — if we flood the market with premium amber, people will see it as less special. The ideal move is to announce an 'extremely limited' amount to keep exclusivity sky-high and bleed their bank accounts while they thank us for it. I was thinking maybe three to five jewelry pieces per month."
"Only three to five a month?" Dorio glanced at the amber on the table. "That seems way too few considering how many people live in the city. We could make way more."
Exactly — that was the point. Create a sense of urgency through scarcity.
"Fae, have you considered placing objects inside before fossilizing the resin?" Kiwi suggested, turning her optics away from the amber to look at her friend. "I remember an old movie we watched — they got DNA from a mosquito trapped in amber. If we made a few occasional pieces like that, we could turn them into seriously high-end items."
They wouldn't even need to be extraordinary objects. A small feather or a perfectly preserved four-leaf clover sealed inside would skyrocket its value and classify it as a one-of-a-kind piece.
"I could actually do that easily," Faelan stared at his hand, resisting the urge to smack himself in the forehead.
How hadn't he thought of that?
"I think two or three pieces like that a year would be enough," Kiwi said, looking back at the numbers. "They should appear irregularly, but they'd earn us a fortune."
Never underestimate the vanity of rich people — especially in Night City.
Now, they just needed to hire an expert to work the amber and bring the project to life. Someone with a good eye for design who wouldn't have too much work, and might even double as a sales rep when the store opened.
A couple of people should be enough — not counting the security staff.
"Uh, could I get a discount on that?" Dorio pointed at the amber gorilla arm implant.
It looked pretty cool and had that touch of elegance without being tacky.
Completely different from those cheap neon lights, warped tattoos, and painted metal accessories pretending to be gold.
"You're our head of security, just find a moment to come with me to see Vik and we'll get it sorted for free. Same goes for the others," Faelan waved off the discount idea. His people had to be taken care of, and Viktor had already given him the schematics for some amber inlays in his ripperdoc glove.
Viktor's reasons were purely to help start the trend and promote it. Definitely not personal interest. Every time a client came in for a check-up or upgrade, they'd see his new ripperdoc glove and definitely ask about it.
"Awesome!" Dorio's optics flashed, but after a moment of receiving info, her smile twisted into an awkward grimace. "Oh..."
"What's wrong with you?" Kiwi turned to look at her.
"Ah..." She hesitated for a moment. "Well... I just got a message from Rogue," Dorio said, trying not to seem the least bit shaken. "Yeah, that Rogue. Like, the queen of Afterlife?"
Faelan sighed, exasperated when he heard Dorio.
Fantastic. What the hell did that woman want?
"Trouble?" he asked flatly, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
The current Rogue was still solidifying her position in Night City. In less than a decade, she'd become an icon, and another decade later, her prestige would start to decline, even if she fought tooth and nail to stop it. Maybe veteran mercs and fixers would still respect her, but the younger generations would only see her as someone who'd sat on the throne too long and needed to retire or flatline so someone else could take over.
Faelan had no interest in Afterlife—too many roosters showing off their feathers, and in the middle of the henhouse, Rogue, the mother hen waiting to be impressed.
He wouldn't deny being curious at first about the cocktails at the bar—recipes from the past—but after trying the local food once... yeah, no way he was going to drink something that was one step away from cheap cologne mixed with industrial fuel. No thanks.
"Not really? It's not even for me, it's for my boss—meaning you. Uh, I think it's better if I just show you directly," Dorio admitted as she forwarded the message she had just received.
Kiwi read the message through her optics, and Faelan on the screen of his Pip-Boy.
"How did she find out—?" Faelan asked after finishing the read, then realized the only possibility. "Viktor!" he said, glaring at the ceiling in frustration. "I told him to be careful!"
Boiling the whole message down, Rogue basically wanted to strike a deal with Naturtal&Co to supply real liquor to her prestigious club. She expected to meet their representative at Afterlife that very night at ten to discuss the supply and variety of drinks. Also, between the lines, one could almost see the demand for a big discount for... well, for her pretty face and to avoid "future issues."
Yeah, this was the Rogue who wouldn't hesitate to press your head down with her heel if she thought you were soft. Add to that the fact that they'd founded a company—no doubt she threw their names onto the "Corpos" list without a second thought—and knowing how great she got along with corps...
Could Faelan fulfill the request? Of course!
Sugarcane, potatoes, grains, grapes, yeast... he had it all and could make a wide range of real alcoholic beverages. He could accelerate the aging and mass-produce if he wanted to.
The only reason he hadn't was that the process relied too much on him, and they didn't even have facilities yet to make drinks publicly. The kind of place that, when asked where their alcohol is made, Faelan could proudly say: Right here!
It was still a pending project.
As for how she found out, Faelan figured one of Vik's patients must've finally noticed the wine he usually got, and after asking about it, Viktor couldn't resist showing off a little.
He understood. But he was still annoyed.
As for what Vik said and how Rogue linked it to Dorio and Naturtal&Co... he had no idea. Fixer stuff, he supposed. Her network was wide, and getting some info likely wasn't hard.
He figured it wasn't a big leap to connect real food with real drinks.
Even so...
Kiwi read the message and took note of Rogue's smug attitude—like she could give orders regardless of anyone else's schedule, how she expected to use her own turf to help intimidate during the "negotiation," the not-so-subtle threat between the lines, and the blatant demand using her reputation as leverage.
Knowing Faelan like she did, his response would no doubt be...
"No," Kiwi gave her partner a light karate chop to the forehead. "You can't kill Rogue. She's one of the reasons megacorps don't own all of the city yet—just most of it."
Faelan scrunched his nose while rubbing his forehead.
Had he become that predictable?
He didn't care whether Rogue lived or died—he wasn't a merc and didn't need her "approval"!
He hadn't even liked the idea of her when he first learned about the character, much less now that she was real.
But... he had to admit Kiwi was right.
Killing Rogue would bring immediate satisfaction, sure, but it would cause way more problems for him without anyone else to act as a thorn in the eyes of the megacorps.
Not to mention how many people might try to avenge her!
"So... what do we do?" Kiwi and Faelan locked eyes. "She can't die, but I'm not about to dance to her tune either, which will make her a problem for us."
"What if we destroy Afterlife?" Kiwi proposed as an alternative solution. "No venue, no drinks to serve."
"That wouldn't just piss off Rogue—it'd be like spitting in the face of every merc in Night City." Dorio broke into a cold sweat at Kiwi's casual suggestion and tried to make them see the consequences. "After all, Afterlife is one of the city's most iconic places and a gathering spot for high-level mercs. If they find out who did it, it's like putting a target on your back."
Faelan's methods weren't exactly subtle when he used his druid disguise...
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Faelan sighed in disappointment. Destroying Afterlife was a really tempting idea. "But... that's only if they know who did it, right?"
"What are you thinking?" Kiwi perked up, paying close attention.
"We need Galina's help."