Cyberpunk: 2075.

Chapter 675, Chapter 89: 'The Mole' Roy

Roy the Mole is no ordinary man, nor is he the only person to become Kansas's largest arms dealer. His life story is quite remarkable, perhaps even comparable to some legendary figures. However, even with his extensive experience in various fields, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous when he saw the unexpected person in front of him.

In the arms industry, it's difficult to make a business if you don't understand your customers. In other words, if you don't know your customers' needs, you won't even know how to sell them weapons that are reasonably priced and suitable for their use.

As the saying goes, in this day and age, even if you sell a child a weapon that could kill, you should at least make it look like a toy water gun. At least that way, children will be more accepting of it and it will be easier to conceal when shooting.

Roy the Mole had already done his homework on the Sixth Street Gang, the NCPD, and even the transporter, the homeless Adcardo, who were about to be traded.

He had originally assumed that the Sixth Street Gang could only send Nottingham Unlio at most, and that the NCPD and Adcardo would never risk sending high-ranking officials—if the city council were to investigate such shady dealings, no one could escape responsibility. He was certain that the Sixth Street Gang desperately needed the shipment and that there were no other influential figures within the gang to back them up, which is why he was so sure that the only heavyweight figure available today was Nottingham Unlio.

However, things didn't go as he expected.

The three factions coincidentally sent figures who could represent their core members—Adcardo leader Saul goes without saying, and Andy from the NCPD special operations team is an even more prominent figure: who doesn't know that if the current Director Johnson were to be in trouble, he would be the most promising successor? Now, these two, along with Nottingham Unlio, the leader of the Sixth Street gang, have gathered together, and all the key figures in this arms trade chain have arrived.

This is definitely not the situation that 'Mole' Roy wanted to see.

Before setting off, Roy took a job from a middleman who actually had influence in Kansas—a task that even a seasoned arms dealer like him had to accept, because he couldn't afford the consequences of refusing.

Because behind that middleman, the shadow of the company looms large.

Compared to the company, even within the small territory of arms trading, Roy's business is nothing more than a tiny stream, while the company is an unfathomable ocean. The gap between the two is so vast that it's despairing. In fact, Roy barely managed to gain a foothold in this business by scavenging the junk that the company didn't want—those semi-scrap weapons deemed to have 'too low recycling value'.

Therefore, when the middleman made the request, "Mole" Roy could neither refuse nor dare to refuse. The company was like a Damocles' sword hanging over his head, ready to fall at any moment.

The middleman didn't specify what 'Mole' Roy was supposed to do, but he insisted that Roy personally handle the deal with the people sent by the company and make sure they could meet with the leader of the Sixth Street gang—Nottingham-Williams himself.

But Roy's brain wasn't rusty.

This batch of so-called "scrap" medium-sized ACPAs, which only had minor scratches on the outer shell and whose performance was completely unaffected, were hastily sold to him at a low price by the company. In Night City, these things are definitely contraband. In addition, the middleman insisted that he bring people to meet Nottingham-Williams. What the other party wanted was obvious.

Roy's original plan was simple: if chaos broke out at the transaction site, he would immediately abandon the mess and have his bodyguards cover his escape.

Even if this deal falls apart, even if he can no longer make a living on the West Coast, even if his reputation as an arms dealer is ruined—it doesn't matter. The savings he's accumulated over the years are enough for him to live a carefree life somewhere in the world for the rest of his days.

But now, the personal presence of Adcardo's leader, Thor, and the sudden appearance of NCPD's rising star, Andy, were unusual occurrences. These heavyweight figures' unusual behavior sent a chill down Roy's spine. Something was wrong—very wrong. It was like a well-woven net, slowly tightening as the four forces converged, and he was the poor worm in the middle who had accidentally stirred it. "Mr. Roy, it's an honor to meet you."

Just as Roy the Mole was so nervous that his temples were throbbing, Nottingham-Williams greeted him with a calm smile.

The Sixth Street gang leader acted as if today's high-profile gathering was perfectly normal, even putting his arm around Roy's shoulder and turning to the crowd: "We've been communicating through encrypted channels before, haven't we? This is our first in-person meeting—I don't need to introduce Lord Thor, your weapons transport line across the Badlands must have had quite a bit of dealing with Adcardo."

He flicked his wrist, as if showing off an ace, and pointed to the young man in tactical clothing: "But this one deserves a proper introduction—Officer Andy from the NCPD Special Operations Department. Believe me, if you can get to know this friend, it will be very helpful for our future in-depth cooperation."

Nottingham-Williams's words were impeccable, but Roy's pounding heart had already picked up on the unspoken message. When the ringed finger pointed at Andy, it was clearly a boast about the 'special pass' for this smuggling chain—even the police's rising star could be a guest of honor at the transaction. Could there be a safer guarantee than that?
Normally, Roy the Mole would have been calculating how much profit this "official protection" could bring—but at this moment, Nottingham-Williams's relaxed demeanor was more like an invisible noose tightening around his throat.

'It's too perfect. So perfect it's chilling.'

He gripped the lining of his suit jacket tightly with his knuckles turning white, as if that could calm his wildly beating heart.

Was I just being paranoid? Perhaps Nottingham-Williamio simply wanted to expand his business empire, which is why he convened a "high-level meeting" with the three leaders? Behind those gleaming prosthetic eyes and perfectly timed smiles, there was no deadly trap at all?
'But why was NCPD officer Andy's glove always resting on his pistol at his waist? Was it a professional habit?'

Why are these wanderers that Saul brought seemingly standing around randomly, yet they've blocked all the exits?

Cold sweat trickled down his spine and into his belt. Roy suddenly realized that the most terrifying thing at this moment was not confirming the danger, but that Nottingham-Wenlio was using this "normality" to hang him on the edge of the cliff of truth, swaying him like a mouse under a cat's paw, having to endure the torment of despair even before death arrives.

Just as Roy's knuckles turned bluish-white from excessive force, and his breathing became short and hot—Nottingham-Williams' fingers on his shoulder suddenly tightened, like a viper making its final measurement before coiling around its prey's throat.

Then, a breath brushed past his ear, and Wenlio's voice, low yet more chilling than the click of a gun being cocked, said: "Mr. Roy."

A simple title, as light as a feather, yet as heavy as a tombstone.

"—You don't want to die, do you?"

The whisper exploded in Roy's ears, like a death sentence or a drowning man grasping at a straw, instantly rousing Roy the mole.

(End of this chapter)