"A poor company dog got nabbed by some random punks who came out of nowhere. They're demanding 1,000,000 eddies for his release."
Inside the Thorton, Jack Welles briefed Riku and V on the mission details.
"These folks have some guts. 50,000 for him alive, 30,000 for him dead. So, what do they really want—him breathing or in a body bag?"
Riku was puzzled. Usually, "dead or alive" was a condition for when someone was missing. But this guy was still alive and well in the kidnappers' hands, yet the family was already setting a price for a corpse. Talk about cold.
"Pretty standard stuff. They can't pay the ransom, and neither the corps nor NCPD give a damn. Chances of him coming out alive drop by 80%."
V shrugged, unfazed, like this was just another day in Night City. She got where the family was coming from.
"At least it's better than his body getting sold to scavs, right?"
Jack Welles added, his words dripping with the grim reality of it all.
Surviving in Night City was no walk in the park. This family at least had some savings to try something. Most people in this situation would be completely helpless.
"Jack, the kidnappers sent the meet-up spot."
Father forwarded a location to Jack Welles. He was the middleman for this job, which was why Jack took it without hesitation.
"Time to get to work."
Jack started the car, heading toward the meet-up point—a derelict factory, according to the map.
Like the Northside Industrial District, abandoned factories littered Vallejo. The reasons for their decay varied, though.
Vallejo sat in Santo Domingo, Night City's oldest district. It had survived multiple wars, serving as a refuge for disaster victims. After the Great Reconstruction, those refugees moved out, and the area became the city's industrial hub and power plant zone.
Vallejo was Santo Domingo's industrial heart, still under development and only recently picking up steam.
In 2069, after the Metal Wars, Arasaka returned to Night City. They took over Watson's port, carved out a chunk of land, and built Arasaka Waterfront for their own use. Watson was thrown into chaos, and the already gang-plagued Northside Industrial District tanked hard.
With no other choice, corpos started migrating south, rebuilding factories in Vallejo. Old plants were torn down, new ones rose, and construction sites buzzed with activity.
But not every investment paid off. Plenty of facilities sat half-finished, some abandoned before completion, others already bankrupt and waiting for a buyer.
These rotting or stalled factories became hideouts for all sorts of lowlifes, with the 6th Street Gang controlling most of them.
"Think it's 6th Street behind this?"
V asked, a hint of worry in her voice. If it was 6th Street, this job just got a whole lot tougher.
6th Street wasn't a pushover. Their ranks included ex-soldiers, former cops, and ex-corp security, all with solid training. Plus, they had arms smuggling channels, so their gear was top-notch. No wonder they'd taken over Santo Domingo's security from NCPD.
"No clue. The client didn't say, and the kidnappers didn't either. But extortion like this? Yeah, it's 6th Street's style."
Jack grumbled. To him, 6th Street was just a bunch of no-good punks.
"Doesn't matter who they are. We do the job and bounce."
Riku didn't chime in on Jack's rant—not because he liked 6th Street. Truth be told, he had no love for any of Night City's gangs. Maybe the Mox were slightly better.
6th Street wasn't exactly saintly. What started as a neighborhood defense crew had morphed into a straight-up crime syndicate. Robbery, extortion, protection rackets, carjacking, arms smuggling—once protectors of the people, they were now just another gang bullying the streets.
Jack's view wasn't wrong, but that didn't make the Valentino Gang, 6th Street's rivals, any better. Their turf wars were about territory and clashing "businesses." Two sides of the same coin.
The trio drove up to the destination, parking outside the abandoned factory's gates. A spotlight from the gate was already locked onto them.
"Here for the eddies?"
Behind the iron-barred gate, a guy dressed in gaudy clothes called out, holding a gun and resting his hand on the gate's chain.
"Yeah, to get the guy."
Jack answered, masking his Latino accent as best he could.
"Doesn't look like 6th Street."
V muttered under her breath. The guy's style didn't match 6th Street's vibe—no military boots, tactical vests, kneepads, cargo pants, or baseball caps with old-school American flags, stars, stripes, or eagles.
"Get out. Only one of you comes in."
The guy didn't open the gate, instead raising his gun, eyeing the Thorton warily. That car wasn't exactly easy to deal with.
"I'll go. Just got some new gear."
The three exchanged glances, and Riku spoke up first. With his freshly upgraded gear, he was the obvious choice.
Jack and V didn't argue. If things went south, Riku's new subdermal armor gave him a better shot at getting out alive.
Riku stepped out of the car. By now, two more kidnappers had appeared at the gate. Looked like this crew wasn't small.
"Hands up. No weapons."
The kidnappers cracked the gate open just enough for one person to slip through, all three guns trained on Riku.
"Easy, chooms, I'm clean."
Riku raised his hands, speaking calmly as he slowly walked toward the gate and into the factory.
Sure, they could get 30,000 for a body and call it a day. But whether it was for the extra 20,000 or just their own sense of right, Riku, Jack, and V were set on trying to save the hostage.
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