"Lille, I’ve got the lizard, but I don’t quite understand why you’re interested in it.

Do you want to replicate the lizard’s DNA into your own cells? That might be useful, but it still doesn’t solve the mysterious disintegration of DNA."

Old Wei expressed his confusion over the phone.

It sounded like the kind of mad science idea that Conners would have, which had been practiced in the world of 2077, so he immediately guessed what Lille was thinking.

However, technology in the world of 2077 had experienced a discontinuation and was basically at a standstill; phenomena like telomere and natural DNA disintegration were studied but uncontrollable.

Perhaps data from the Early Network Era provided many insights for later generations, but they probably didn’t know how these answers came about.

"So I’m conducting my own research. First, help me do a biological model of that lizard; I have a use for it."

"Alright... But I’ll need to spend money on equipment. How will I get paid?"

Lille checked his account balance: 40344 euros.

Not little, but certainly not a lot.

"Er... Old Wei, do you take credit? I’m currently working on a big job..."

"Seeing as you are the only customer planning to replace me, just this once—if nothing else works, I’ll ask V for the money. Is she next to you?"

Lille sneakily glanced at V driving: "She agreed, I’ve seen her account, and she has four hundred thousand."

"Okay, I’ll need some time. This stuff is for scientific research and isn’t cheap."

After hanging up the phone, Lille returned to the car; the three of them were driving the beat-up car they had brought from the border, the Gallina Viper.

To avoid attracting attention, its exterior was redone—calling it "redone" was generous; it was more like it had been haphazardly splashed with a couple of coats of paint, with cloth covering the bullet holes.

You wouldn’t believe how durable the car was; despite a battle, it only lost one side of its bumper.

But a piece of sheet metal on the roof had flown off.

No wonder the car also had a nickname—the mobile tetanus trap.

"We should buy a new car." V muttered while driving, "Speaking of which, owning a nice car is also one of my dreams, but with this money, we can’t afford a good one, and I don’t want a bad one."

The car drove past an overpass and saw an NCPD armored patrol vehicle driving past on the next lane.

Emperor 720, NCPD’s special model, Iron Armor, integrated with military technology’s combat techniques, its front bumper as sturdy as an old ship’s ram.

"How about that car?" Lille asked.

"That’s a good car." Jack excitedly leaned towards the window, watching the armored beast drive away. "Apart from cyber psychosis, this car can solve all problems!

Too bad we can’t buy it, but we might try its lower model, the Emperor 620 Ragnar.

The body structure is pretty sturdy, the car skin basically serves as armor, the car’s powerful, and with that suspension, it feels like flying through the clouds even at 60 mph on Evil Land!"

V was somewhat annoyed: "I mean, my dream car should also be a sleek, good-looking sedan for showing off—of course, bulletproof would be the best."

"To meet that requirement, it would have to be the Sky’s Hera, but unfortunately, only used ones are available on the market; the new ones have become NCPD specials."

V looked at Jack in surprise: "Damn, you just nailed my dream car on the head, great minds think alike."

"Hehe, I also like cars, but I’m more into motorcycles, and right now, I’d rather get a new casing for my gun.

I’ve ordered a custom-made one from the gunsmith, a shiny gold casing with a handcrafted muzzle suppressor and rifling... It’s going to be awesome."

The weapon Jack held was a Nue, a gun from the Tsunami Defense System, and it would look something if it had a gold casing...

Lille probably knew what Jack’s much-desired item looked like—once the gun got that gold casing, it would be the "Golden Badass" from the game.

After thinking for a bit, Lille said, "Once you get that casing, I’ll design a new type of bullet for you."

"Damn, you can do that? I really have to look forward to it... and make some serious money."

Jack scratched his head, not mentioning why the gunsmith hadn’t given him the item—it was because he hadn’t paid the balance.

"But you’d better get used to using shotguns and machine guns; we need a firepower hand for cover. It’s a bit passive with everyone using pistols."

"Sure thing, buddy. I’m proficient in all kinds of skills..."

The car crossed the bridge and arrived in Santo Domingo, a place poorer and barer than inside the city, hosting few of Night City’s heavy industries and a huge sewage treatment plant.

The most shocking thing was that if one went to the easternmost part of Santo Domingo, one could see a giant dam.

And on the other side of the dam lay a lake made up of trash and sewage.

This area was anything but stable, with factories collapsing and being rebuilt over and over again; factories were always going bankrupt and new ones were being established, and unfinished buildings were common sights.

Aloroy was the biggest industrial area in Santo Domingo and also the headquarters of the Six Street Gang. That place even had an old nuclear power plant, though it was unknown if it was still operational.

"Nuclear power plant..." Lille gazed at the distant, smog-enshrouded industrial area of Aloroy, lost in thought.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that with a bit of time, he could turn any nuclear power plant into a nuclear bomb—this was his specialty.

But this was an extreme option for extreme situations.

It was not feasible just to bomb Night City for the sake of the Six Street Gang.

The industrial area was not their destination; they were searching for someone at the farthest eastern part of Santo Domingo, next to Evil Land—

Colorado Farm, which also served as the home to the Santo Domingo workers after their shifts.

From here onward... you wouldn’t see NCPD on the streets; the Six Street Gang had their own order here.

However, it was strange; it was precisely evening when the workers were changing shifts, yet there were scarcely any people on the streets.

Instead, there were quite a few people lying on the ground waiting to die; those walking hurried as if every second spent on the street was scorchingly hot.

The car slowed down, and Lille just happened to see a little vendor cart surrounded by two new recruits of the Six Street Gang.

"Hey, old man, you haven’t paid enough protection money for the month yet. What, do you think the guns of the Six Street Gang have gone soft, sneakily setting up your stall?"

"But... there have been fewer and fewer people lately, and the protection fee has also increased. Last month it was still 800 Euros..."

"Who cares whether it increases or not! There’s a change in who’s in charge here! I’m in charge of you now, and you have to pay more! Otherwise, how will the big brother above look at me?"

"But I really have no money left; if I don’t come out to do business, how can I pay the protection fee?"

"I don’t care, no payment means no stall; get lost, or else I will treat you to a bullet!"

The three in the car also noticed this scene, actually, everyone on the street had noticed.

But no one intervened.

V said with interest, "I heard before that the Six Street Gang decided to stand up to protect the community and uphold justice because they couldn’t stand the inaction of the NCPD.

They even said they wanted to restore the old Constitution of the United States..."

Jack also said, "Hey, I’ve heard that too, that the workers here consider this place home and would never leave in their lifetimes."

Lille nodded, "In a sense, the rumors aren’t off. Justice can be interpreted, and the old Constitution of the United States... well, it is what it is.

As for home..."

This severely polluted and desolate Santo Domingo truly was a lifetime home for the workers.

Even though it didn’t look too good and the services were cheap, it had everything – bars, shops, parks, and even schools.

Even though the dazzling Night City was just across the river, they would probably never, could not, and need not leave here.

Or perhaps, the towering buildings of the Watson District were Night City, and the barren chaos of Santo Domingo was also Night City."

"Lama Armory—right over there; how are we going to handle this?"

The car stopped by the roadside, and V pointed at a dilapidated self-built housing area in the distance.

Lille responded, "This place is like the Afghan Battlefield... Jack and I will go in and talk to Kaplan, while you find a way to sneak in and access her private database for me to hack into.

We have to do this quietly; we can’t let the Six Street Gang find out, otherwise things will get messy, not to mention we might not find the information we need.

But, we also have to scare Roshan—anyway, you go find a way to slip in first."

V loaded his gun as he got out of the car: "Alright... Jack, follow him. The scaring part is still up to you."

"No problem... but what is the Afghan Battlefield?"

"Who knows." V shrugged, "This kid is like that, likes to talk about stuff we don’t understand."