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“Sure,” You agree at once, eager to get answers to burning questions, “Let’s ride.”
“That’s the spirit.” Cannon remarks approvingly, the doors to his Thorton unlocking automatically as you approach. You swing the heavy armored door open and step up inside on the patched leather seat. The interior is just as modded as the outside, if not moreso, bundled cables running up and down along the walls and roof. Several flat screen panels scavenged from comps cover the dash, one of them even on a movable arm like in an NCPD patrol cruiser.
Looking down at the short shotgun sheathed by your side, right between your seat and the door, you can’t help but comment, “Riding shotgun with an actual shotgun - Nova.”
“How else would you do it?” Cannon replies in a deadpan tone as he starts the engine. The Thorton roars to life, rumbling with plenty of horsepower to spare as Cannon pulls it out of the parking lot and onto the sports car infested roads of North Oak - lots of the rich and famous up in these parts, just far enough at the edge of Night City to have a good view and few neighbors but not so far as to really be out in the badlands.
“So, my dad,” You begin, “What did he do?”
“A whole laundry list of jobs, but usually it was cracking security along the border.” Cannon rasps out the answer while overtaking and passing a sleek looking super car that’s driving like a complete snail, probably some banker or flick star that can barely drive it, “Helped us move cargo past the drones and patrols, found holes in the minefields. A good netrunner is hard to come by.”
“What kind of cargo do you move?”
“Anything we’re paid for.” He answers bluntly, entirely unashamed as he lists off examples, “ Real meat. Guns. Exotic animals - usually lizards. Medical supplies, baloperidol and immuno-blockers by the crate. People, but not the way the raffen do it - usually we’re moving people <span class="mu-i">out</span> of Night City, getting in isn’t a problem for most folks.”
You’re not sure what ‘raffen’ are, but he practically spit the word out. Probably not friends then.
“And dad was helping with this for years?”
“Yep. Mostly worked over the net, but we had a few jobs in person. Cleared a warehouse of scavs. Had a close call on that one, nearly lost my arm again to one of em' with chainsaw for a hand.”
…That’s a sentence with too much to address, so you just stick to the biggest part, “Cleared?”
“Fragged the whole pack.” Cannon confirms your suspicion, “He fried a few of them, glitched their chrome, then we handled the rest with iron. They had one of our kids.”
“Oh. Man, fuck scavs.” You might’ve lived in the safety of downtown most of your life, but absolutely everyone in Night City knows how scummy scavs are, the lowest of the low. Part harvesting, sex trafficking, XBDs of all kinds - even torture and snuff - there’s nothing scavs won’t do. No one would miss a warehouse of them.
