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Chapter 282 c
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 15:14:33 +0000 UTCChapter 282 c
Even on Night City television, the program Your Business is My Business had already made it clear—Elizabeth Kress, the former president of the New United States, had previously been the CEO of Militech. And the current president, Rosalind Myers, had also served as Militech’s CEO. Doesn’t that seem like too much of a coincidence?
In the past, the military-industrial complex at least used to put up a puppet in the front and operate from the shadows. Now they weren’t even pretending anymore—they had gone all in and taken the presidency themselves.
Jefferson’s face remained calm, his expression unreadable, as though lost in deep thought. Having said everything that needed to be said, Leo prepared to leave. No need to disturb him any further. But just as Leo placed his hand on the car door, ready to open it and step out, Jefferson suddenly said, “Wait a moment, Leo.”
“Is there something else, Mr. Peralez?”
“Name your price.”
Leo gave him a puzzled look. “Huh?”
“I know you’re highly capable,” Jefferson said directly. “I want to hire you as my head of security. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re paid more than fairly.”
At the moment, Jefferson was still only a mayoral candidate, running against Weldon Holt for the top seat in Night City. But in both polling numbers and public sentiment, Jefferson was far ahead. To put it bluntly, if Lucius Rhyne were still alive, maybe the outcome between him and Jefferson would be uncertain. Rhyne, despite his many flaws, had managed to maintain Night City’s independence—enough to earn him a loyal base of support.
But now, with Rhyne gone, Jefferson’s only remaining opponent was someone like Weldon Holt—Rhyne’s lapdog, a corporate yes-man, a corporate pet in the most literal sense. Holt didn’t even bother to hide his obedience to the corps; he practically screamed it out in the open.
So the next mayor of Night City would undoubtedly be Jefferson Peralez.
If Leo accepted Jefferson’s offer to become his head of security, his status and authority would rise along with Jefferson’s. For many people from civilian backgrounds, this was one of the most effective ways to break through class limits and climb the ladder.
But everything in this world had two sides. When you gained one thing, you inevitably lost another. For example, the rich gained money—but lost their worries. Okay, maybe that was a joke.
Seriously though, accepting Jefferson’s offer meant being branded with his name, tightly bound to his political machine. Their fortunes would rise and fall together. Serving someone who was about to become mayor seemed like a path paved with gold—but people often forgot that politics was the dirtiest game of power in the world.
Even Richard Night, the founder of the city, had been assassinated under murky circumstances—a case still unsolved. Even Lucius Rhyne, who fought to keep Night City free, had died of a mysterious digital virus in a club, with even the cause of death altered in the records.
Being chief of security wasn’t just a cushy title. If anyone wanted to harm Jefferson, the first target would be his head of security.
Accepting that role meant placing yourself under the spotlight.
Leo wasn’t that naïve.
The old adage still held: build high walls, store grain broadly, and bide your time before declaring yourself king. Though originally meant as a political strategy for unifying a nation, it applied well here too. Don’t stick your head out too early—don’t become the first one targeted.
With this in mind, Leo gave a regretful smile and politely declined. “Sorry, Mr. Peralez. Not trying to be modest, but I’m not the right fit. You should find someone else.”
Jefferson was a smart man and could tell Leo was just being polite. He nodded and didn’t push it any further.
Since the conversation had shifted to security, Leo continued naturally, “Mr. Peralez, who’s currently in charge of your security?”
“NightCorp.”
Upon hearing that, Leo immediately frowned. “NightCorp?”
Seeing Leo’s reaction, Jefferson raised an eyebrow. “What is it? Is something wrong?”
Leo didn’t reply. But several seconds later, Jefferson suddenly received a communication request—from none other than Leo, standing right next to him.
He was about to ask what Leo was doing, but Leo gestured for him to stay silent. Jefferson hesitated for a moment but eventually accepted the request.
“This is a secure channel. Only you and I can hear this—no one else.”
Jefferson sounded confused and on edge. “Why the secrecy? You don’t trust my security detail?”
“It’s not about trust. Just better safe than sorry,” Leo said, glancing around. The bodyguards nearby showed no suspicious behavior—for now, that was at least some small relief. “Mr. Peralez, I need to ask you something, and I hope you won’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“Why didn’t you choose Arasaka or Militech—those long-established security giants? Why insist on using a mysterious firm like NightCorp?”
“Does that matter?”
“I’d prefer to know, if possible.”
Jefferson paused, then made the decision to be honest. “Because a large portion of my campaign funding comes from NightCorp. Back in school, they sponsored my education. Without that help, someone like me—born in the gutter—would’ve never had the chance to study.”
Leo thought for a moment. “Jefferson, I strongly recommend switching to a more reputable security firm. Choose one of the big names—you’ll sleep easier.”
“Why? Did you find something wrong with NightCorp?”
Jefferson had a long-standing relationship with NightCorp, from his student days to his current political campaign. While not all of his political contributions came from them, their share wasn’t small.
Changing security providers would likely mean NightCorp pulling their support—and he’d be painted as an ungrateful backstabber.
He’d always gotten along fine with them. NightCorp had never harmed him. He couldn’t imagine why they would now.
“There’s no concrete problem. It’s just advice—from a friend.”
Leo’s instincts told him something about NightCorp wasn’t right. He couldn’t explain why. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t even bother saying it—it wasn’t worth the effort. But his relationship with Jefferson Peralez was solid enough that he was willing to take the risk and offer the warning.
Of course, if Jefferson didn’t listen, that was on him.
Jefferson’s first instinct was that there was no need to switch—it seemed unnecessary. But he also knew Leo meant well, so instead of rejecting the suggestion outright, he said, “Let me think about it.”
Jefferson reached under his seat and pulled out a briefcase filled with physical cash. In 2077, even with the prevalence of credit chips and bank transfers, hard currency remained popular because it was untraceable.
“Let’s not waste any more of your time. Here’s your payment.”
But Leo didn’t reach for the case. He raised his hand and shook his head. “I don’t want a reward. But I do need a favor.”
“Sure, say the word. As long as it’s within my ability, I’ll do it.”
“Do you know what a PMC is?”
“PMC? You mean Private Military Contractor?”
Kang Tao, Arasaka, and Militech weren’t strictly military contractors—their private security divisions were only one branch of their operations, alongside banking and manufacturing. True military contractors did exist, but they hadn’t set up shop in Night City.
That was because the city’s private security industry was almost completely monopolized by the Big Three. Whatever crumbs were left were divided up by fixers. There simply wasn’t any room for true PMCs.
Leo needed Jefferson’s help because a PMC wasn’t something just anyone could start. You needed authorization from the Department of Defense—a license to operate PMC business.
It was like buying a net café: the license was the real value. Without DoD certification, a PMC was just a glorified security firm.
Trying to start a PMC in the New United States without powerful backing? Forget it.
But this wasn’t the New United States—this was Night City.
Night City wasn’t just a city. It was a nation-state. It had no military, but it did have a Defense Department. Though, to cut costs, City Hall had outsourced nearly all defense responsibilities to the major security corporations—leaving the Defense Department a hollow shell.
Most people didn’t even know Night City had one.
Its office at City Hall was tiny, staffed by a few clerks, not even a single night guard. But even that kind of DoD could issue certifications that still held weight elsewhere.
All Leo needed was for Jefferson to get him that license, and he’d be able to start his own PMC right here in Night City.
Jefferson thought he understood why Leo had just declined his offer.
“So that’s what this is about.”
If Leo wanted to start his own company—something on the level of Arasaka or Kang Tao—then of course he wouldn’t want to spend his time playing bodyguard.
Jefferson didn’t think too much of it. He knew Leo had built quite a reputation by now. But no matter how famous he was, if he didn’t rise out of the mercenary underworld, he’d always just be another weapon in a fixer’s hands.
He figured Leo was just trying to level up and carve out a new future.
“I understand. Leave it to me. I’ll get it done.”
Night City’s Department of Defense was toothless and powerless. Getting something approved was trivial—just a matter of money. You didn’t even owe a favor. And if money could solve a problem, then it wasn’t really a problem.
Leo gave a faint smile.
Because in truth, starting a company wasn’t just about building something new. There was another reason, too.
