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Chapter 336 c
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 17:40:58 +0000 UTCChapter 336 c
2-in-1-chapter
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In Europe, as long as children from poor families studied hard, they could still avoid falling into misfortune.
But in America, if you were born poor and grew up in a crime-ridden neighborhood, escaping crime was almost impossible.
Clint Eastwood’s film Gran Torino had already illustrated this truth thoroughly.
That was why River wanted to earn more money and move his sister’s family out of the trailer park into a safer place. Such a goal was perfectly reasonable.
“But besides money,” River continued, “there’s an even more important reason. These past two incidents have shown me just how corrupt and rotten the NCPD really is.”
“I used to think that even if I couldn’t change the whole system, at least I could make a difference in the parts I could reach.”
“But I was wrong. I can’t change anything.”
“No matter how much I do, the evil in this city never decreases.”
“And I’m not a kid anymore, Leo. I learned long ago that you can’t slap someone with one hand and then bribe them with candy in the other.”
“Unless I was willing to get dirty like Fort and the rest of them, they’d always find ways to push me out.”
“Better to walk away with my head held high than be driven out in disgrace.”
Leo’s earlier blessing hadn’t been fake.
And seeing River choose his own path, Leo felt genuinely pleased.
“Good. Then welcome aboard.”
“In that case, I can’t keep calling you the same as before. From now on, I’ll have to use a new title—Boss, Director, something like that.”
“They all call me Boss. You can too,” Leo replied.
River nodded, a little embarrassed. “Alright, Boss. By the way, can I wait a few more days before reporting in? Randy may be safe now, but my sister doesn’t know yet. She’s still alone with two kids, and it’s not easy for her. I want to stay with her for a few days, until she calms down. After that, I’ll come.”
If you wanted employees loyalty, money wasn’t enough—humane management mattered too.
There was no reason for Leo to refuse.
“Of course. No problem.”
…
The three of them took a helicopter back to Night City.
First, they landed at the trailer park where River’s sister lived and dropped him off. Then the helicopter flew on to the Afterlife.
Leo and Lucy exited the Afterlife and hailed a Delamain cab.
While waiting, Lucy said, “River’s not bad. A bit impatient maybe, but given it was about his nephew, that’s understandable.”
“No one’s perfect. On his own, he might be reckless, but with teammates, his flaws will get balanced out. That’s why I recruited him,” Leo answered.
“Speaking of which, shouldn’t we recruit more people? If you agree, I’m sure plenty of the Aldecaldos would sign up.”
Leo didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “What’s wrong? That Panam girl giving you trouble?”
“It’s not exactly trouble, but…”
“Just say it. You know me well enough—don’t hold back.”
Lucy nodded. “Panam wanted me to ask you if, and when, we’ll need more people. She wondered if the Aldecaldos could get priority.”
Her reaction hadn’t surprised Leo.
His offer was far better than what Arasaka paid.
If his company weren’t still just starting out, with many doubting its future, applicants would already be lining up from Rocky Ridge Mountain all the way to Night City.
Nomads had always lived poor, and Panam’s crew was now envied by the rest of their clan.
As the saying went: you fear seeing your brother suffer, and you fear seeing him drive a luxury car.
Right now, Panam’s people were just standing guard, doing almost nothing—and still bringing home a thousand euros a day.
Meanwhile, other Aldecaldos were breaking their backs for just a handful of euros.
No wonder so many wanted in.
“So, what did you tell Panam?”
“I told her straight—I don’t make the calls. Asking me’s useless. I can’t influence your decisions.”
“Excellent answer.”
“You’re not mad I shifted the blame onto you?”
“Why would I be? You turned her down, didn’t you? If you’d agreed without asking me, then I’d be mad.”
Leo paused, then asked, “But I want to hear your take.”
Lucy thought for a moment. “Rocky Ridge only has ten people right now—it’s a bit too few. We could bring in ten or twenty more. Panam’s clan has hundreds of members, right? We could pick twenty good ones out of them easily.”
Leo nodded but then shared his own concerns.
“We’re still in the early stage. It’s not the time to bring in too many. Right now, we need core members—the ones who’ll be the pillars of this company.”
“But you’re right. We are short-handed. When we get back, tell Panam to talk with Saul. Have the Aldecaldos send over a hundred people.”
Lucy blinked. “A hundred? Isn’t that too many?”
“Not at all. I’ll personally test them. Out of a hundred, I’ll keep maybe thirty, or even twenty, depending on their performance.”
The ten Panam had with her now, besides Panam herself, were all veterans who’d seen combat.
That was why Leo could afford to pay them so well.
But the Aldecaldos didn’t have many like that—otherwise Saul wouldn’t be struggling to keep his clan afloat.
Leo understood their hardships, but Aurora PMC wasn’t a charity. Not everyone could join.
The thirty-thousand-a-month salary he offered wasn’t easy money. Only the best would earn it.
“But now that our team is growing, we have to face another issue—we need a professional medical team.
“It’s not that I’m unwilling to spend the money or get everyone Trauma Team insurance. The problem is that Trauma Team premiums are outrageously high, especially for people like us who spend our days in the middle of gunfire.”
Trauma Team had several membership tiers: Platinum, Gold, and Standard.
The most valuable were, of course, Platinum and Gold.
If you got seriously injured, their AVs would arrive within minutes to pull you out of danger.
It wasn’t guaranteed—they only responded when your trauma card or signal implant registered critical injury. It’s not like they’d show up if you sliced your finger cooking. Still, the success rate was impressively high.
But—and here’s the key—membership costs didn’t just have a listed base price. They also had a variable premium.
That premium depended on your occupation.
For example, if you were a corporate mid‑ or high‑level exec, signing up for Platinum would cost the normal price: tens of thousands of eurodollars per month. Trauma Team knew execs wouldn’t be trading bullets on the streets every day, so their membership was basically guaranteed profit.
But if you were a field agent, a security officer, or a cyber‑merc constantly working on the front lines, Platinum coverage came with a 50% to 100% markup—sometimes even higher.
Because for people like that, Trauma Team often had to risk crossfire, expending ammunition, risking casualties, even losing AVs to pull them out.
So naturally, the premium couldn’t be the same as for some cushy exec.
And besides, Trauma Team hospitals weren’t exactly unmatched. Most of their equipment could be purchased from suppliers in Asia or Europe if you had the money.
“So rather than wasting all that money on Trauma Team,” Leo concluded, “we’d be better off building our own medical team.”
Lucy listened carefully and nodded. It made sense. She touched her chin thoughtfully and then suggested a name.
“What about Pira?”
“Pilar? From Maine’s crew?” Leo thought for a moment, recalling the lanky figure. “Isn’t he more of a tech specialist than a ripperdoc?”
“He is, technically. But if we don’t have anyone better for now, we could ask him to fill in temporarily.”
Leo shook his head.
“That wouldn’t sit right. If we find a real candidate later, we’d just replace him. Sure, that kind of thing fits Night City’s rules, but it’s not exactly humane. Too cold‑blooded.”
In his previous life, Leo had worked at a company that was exactly like that—profit above all, treating employees like livestock. The boss had even said in public, ‘If I’m paying you, you owe me your life.’ People had quit one after another.
The ones who stayed? They slacked so hard it was practically an art form.
Unsurprisingly, that company eventually bled money and went under.
And in Night City 2077, there were plenty of companies like that, where exploiting workers wasn’t even considered a problem anymore.
But Leo, putting himself in others shoes, knew he didn’t want to run his team that way.
“And besides,” he added, “for some positions you can compromise. But not for the medical team—especially not the team leader. That role needs a true professional.”
Because when you needed a doctor, it was always an emergency.
If your doctor was a part‑timer? That was unacceptable.
Leo wasn’t going to let his people survive the battlefield only to die on the operating table.
Lucy understood his concern.
It was true—Pilar could fine‑tune weapons and some cyberware like Mantis Blades, Projectile Launch Systems, or Gorilla Arms. But he wasn’t fully qualified for a doctor’s role.
In Night City, netrunners were rare enough, but skilled doctors were rarer still.
And a doctor who was both capable and trustworthy? Almost nonexistent.
Sure, there were cyberware clinics on every corner. But most of them ran without licenses. That was why Lucy hadn’t even bothered suggesting them—because Leo would never agree.
Then, a name suddenly flashed in Lucy’s mind like a spark.
“What about Vik?”
“Vik?” Leo looked at her.
“He used to work at the University of Tokyo Hospital—that’s one of the top medical centers in Japan. If we bring him in, there’ll be no problem. He hates dealing with corps, sure, but if it’s you asking, I think he’d accept.”
Viktor Vektor. A man just one step shy of being a legend in Night City.
A former underground boxing champion who had never needed cyberware enhancements.
And as for his skill as a ripperdoc…
Everyone who’d ever been under Vik’s knife swore by his steady hands.
More importantly, Vik was perhaps the only doctor in Night City everyone trusted.
His integrity was known to all. If you couldn’t trust him, you might as well head to heaven and find Jesus—who, by now, was probably DJing up there.
