Kapitel 183: The Story of Red Ocher
"It was the year 2029, and the Red Ocher gang was active in Texas. There were a lot of young people involved, and the Aldecaldos were still at their peak, with aggressive activities.
Cedric, Hector, and Bowen—those three joined the gang's robbery operations around the same time.
At one point, they were even invited by the Wraiths but turned the offer down.
Cedric had a violent temper, Bowen was the strategist, and the two of them killed many people. Hector, on the other hand, was calm and rarely went out of his way to kill; he always focused on the mission target."
By the campfire, Navi gazed at the flames and recounted their story.
"In short, Cedric was the most skilled and killed the most people. He said he actually enjoyed killing at that time.
Bowen was the sneakiest. He would only come out after most of the fighting was over to clean up the mess. As for Hector, he only focused on the objective and wouldn't kill anyone he didn't have to.
As the jobs they took on grew larger, so did their augmentations, and soon, the junk implants sold on the black market weren't good enough for them anymore.
Bowen got an icepick doll in Mexico City, and the three of them set their sights on some corporate employees—but Hector didn't think they should take that job.
One dark and windy night, they robbed a corporate employee—it was said to be a tourist bus.
The icepick hacked into the unlucky person's cyberware system. That's when Hector and the others disagreed: he only wanted to ransom the person for a bit of cash.
But Bowen urged Cedric to strip the guy of his implants.
That incident is what brought the three young men to the attention of the company—young men who were growing more notorious by the day."
David, listening intently, was captivated.
He had been there when Cedric died, witnessing that intense wave of emotion firsthand. He was deeply curious about the nomad's past.
"Cedric became even fiercer after getting new implants. There was one time when he single-handedly killed over thirty drug dealers in the Badlands.
People started calling him the 'One-Eyed Butcher' at the border, saying he killed for the sake of killing.
But in all the time I knew him, I never heard Cedric mention that incident—until just a few days ago, when he told me the truth:
He got that name largely because of Bowen, who was selling braindance recordings of Cedric's killings.
He found this out later—whenever Bowen went into town to buy new implants, he also installed backdoors in Cedric's cyberware, using the money from those sold braindances to fund some shady activities.
Around that time, the company and the Aldecaldos had many clashes, and the old clan leader was killed.
In the end, Hector was chosen as the new clan leader—Cedric didn't understand why they didn't pick him, given his greater fame.
So he wanted to pull off something big—Bowen found him a huge job: robbing a corporate convoy full of valuable goods.
It was said the cargo was worth three or four million euros, all brand new—one hit, and they'd be set for a year.
How could Cedric resist? Fueled by youthful arrogance, he took a large group of followers, nearly causing a rift in the tribe, to plan the attack."
It sounded like a typical nomad's tale.
David asked, "Did they succeed?"
Navi shook his head. "No, it was a trap. Bowen was caught by corporate employees in the city and willingly betrayed the tribe.
Do you remember the first corporate employee they robbed? That guy's friends came seeking revenge.
Cedric's entire crew was wiped out. He went mad and killed everyone, then opened the convoy's containers, only to find them full of trash.
When he returned to the tribe, Bowen ambushed him and burned the camp. If Hector hadn't arrived with backup, everyone left would've been sold to human traffickers."
Navi added more fuel to the fire, then picked up a recorder from the table.
"This is the recording he left behind."
[Static]
"At that time, I was too young. I didn't understand the old clan leader's words. I was furious, not understanding why it wasn't me.
I killed so many people for the tribe, robbed so many convoys—every smuggler knew my name. Drug dealers would piss themselves when they heard it.
I was addicted to that thrill, to watching them tremble, to the feeling of putting bullets in their heads, chests, or wherever.
The old leader wasn't wrong about me—I was a fool, just like that bastard Bowen, rotten to the core.
I spat on the Aldecaldo's no-killing rule, just as Bowen spat on our tribe's customs.
I thought Bowen and I were brothers on the same path. Since Red Ocher didn't recognize me, I'd do it my own way.
But Bowen was the worst of the worst—he had plans all along. From the moment we split off, he wanted to exploit the tribe.
'He's the one making all the money,' he'd say, 'so what's wrong with taking a few women?'
I hit him—I should've realized back then. I should've known."
[Static]
"Navi, to be honest, I've always thought you were too honest, always burying your nose in books until...
Maybe you've forgotten, but back in Reno, you told me those ideas of yours would help the tribe find water—
I suddenly remembered Hector from long ago. And me? From start to finish, Bowen and I were the same—idiots and scum.
Thinking that a gun solves everything. Kill one person, and if it's not enough, kill two. If you don't have enough, steal more. But they were all excuses—I was just addicted to the feeling!
But who am I to say any of this? I just... I just hope... Damn it! I'm only trying to comfort myself!
Shit, shit, shit! I've lost my mind again, going crazy killing people, and now I'm lying here like a piece of trash—"
[Click]
The recording ended.
The previously festive gathering fell silent, leaving only the sound of the crackling fire.
Navi stirred the embers, then took a bottle of liquor from the table.
"Though he always talked like that, he never crossed the line like Wraiths would.
Of course, I don't have the right to forgive him on behalf of the victims.
But as his fellow tribesmen, we're here to send him off, whether to heaven or hell. The rest of the journey is up to him."
The alcohol slowly poured onto the fire, causing the flames to blaze even higher.
Everyone raised their cups thoughtfully, then drank the bitter beer.
This wasn't just a problem of nomads.
The harsh survival environment was like the sea, and people were like castaways struggling in the water.
Again and again, they would struggle and flail, just to break through the surface and take a breath of fresh air.
People became addicted to that fleeting feeling, clinging to whatever they could.
Violence was often the easiest solution, but unchecked violence often led to tragedy.
And when people tried to solve their problems through other means, they could end up like Hector—played by corporations.
These problems were like tangled balls of yarn, clogging people's minds, blocking their path to an ideal life.
The shore of salvation seemed like an unattainable dream.
Jackie put down his synthetic meat: "I want to go home."
Leo said, "Soon, by the morning after tomorrow at the latest—you remembering how Mrs. Wells told you not to join any gangs?"
"Yeah, I guess I was just like that."
V jumped down from the gecko: "What a story—full of twists and turns.
I've seen a lot of people who preach righteousness but are really just addicted to violence.
But sometimes, those addicted to violence aren't even the ones directly doing it."
Leo nodded in agreement. "True, though in Night City, most people are directly involved in the process."
"Like us? Do you think we're the same?"
"Of course not. Well... that might sound a bit absolute, but as long as the nomads are doing well, we're probably not."
V sneaked a glance at Leo, who was lost in thought.
As someone from the streets, what other survival methods did she have besides violence?
But non-violent methods sure were appealing.
She had trained so hard to avoid becoming like those people, always working solo. But if it weren't for her lucky break in Atlanta, how far could she have gone?
V nudged Leo: "Anyway, I'm used to violence. You better steer us straight, or all the sins we commit will fall on your head."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the external brain—I'll handle the thinking, don't worry about it."
"Hey, where are you going?"
Leo waved his hand and walked towards a pile of scrap—
"Doing what an external brain does."
[Warning: Unstable energy imminent]
[Countdown: 48 hours]
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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