Chapter 6 — Trading
The wind was unusually cold today — the kind of cold that didn't belong in August.
But Zilf Seno wasn't shivering because of the weather.
His back was drenched in sweat.
"I told you to be on time! Are you deaf? You idiots—!"
His voice cracked with anger over the call — then everything froze.
Rox was inside the BD Wreath, living the memory from Seno's eyes.
The heat of the street, the sting of sweat, the dry throat — all of it felt like his own body.
Hovercars roared above Night City, and the air smelled like burning rubber and trash.
Before Rox could appreciate the immersive tech, his phone buzzed — Hanz's voice coming through.
"Zoom audio input to Seno's left ear. Try identifying the voice on the other side. If it's someone you know, that saves us a lot of trouble."
Rox focused. Seno's ear filled his screen — and another voice became clear.
"Don't panic, my friend. Overtime is normal. Be patient. I'll be there soon."
First in Japanese.
Then in English with a faint Japanese accent — the lingua franca of Night City.
"Arasaka?" Rox muttered instinctively.
Hanz laughed.
"The Tiger Claws all speak Japanese. And half of Arasaka's European branch speaks English. Language proves nothing."
So Rox listened further.
Seno nearly screamed into the phone, voice breaking:
"Do you know how much risk I took getting out of Dogtown? If the Ghost Hounds notice I'm missing during night shift, I'm dead! You've got ten minutes — or the deal is off!"
A drunk collapsed nearby, vomiting — the smell hit Seno hard, and Rox felt the nausea through the BD.
Silence hung on the other end of the call.
Then — a quiet threat:
"My friend… would you prefer your Colonel to learn that you're a traitor?"
Seno's whole body locked up.
He shook with rage — and fear.
"You bastards—!"
"You'll get your money," the voice replied calmly. "Don't make this difficult."
The call ended.
Rox frowned inside the BD.
Seno wasn't acting like a spy. He was acting like a man being squeezed from both sides — a trapped animal.
"Fast-forward until the meeting," Hanz instructed.
Rox accelerated playback — Seno pacing, punching walls, kneeling with his head in his hands — desperate.
Then—
Headlights.
A Gudera Turbo-R 740 slid into the alley.
A classic American muscle sports car — powerful, expensive, rare.
Rich.
That was Rox's first conclusion.
Someone in a position of power — not some random ganger.
Hanz was impressed when Rox voiced that deduction — though he didn't compliment him.
The car door opened — but the driver's upper body was pixelated and distorted, audio scrambled.
"BD anti-recording tech," Hanz explained with annoyance. "Anyone smart enough uses it. Expensive, but not rare."
The driver stepped forward.
"I'm here. Give me the goods."
Seno clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly — then finally pulled the data chip from his pocket.
"Ten thousand eurodollars. Cash. Not a cent less."
The man took the chip with no reaction — Seno shot him a hopeful look.
Just pay me. Let me leave.
But…
"The route map you gave isn't worth ten."
Seno reached to snatch the chip — too slow.
A kick slammed into his chest — Seno flew backward, coughing blood.
Ghost Hound soldiers were famous for durability.
For Seno to lose that easily — the buyer's chrome was top-tier.
Rox analyzed out loud:
"Titanium bone skeleton. Bionic joints. Movement pattern isn't gang-standard. Could be corpo-backed. Or military surplus."
Hanz nodded slowly — interested.
Back in the BD, the buyer delivered instructions:
"The explosives are already under the truck. Once the objective is achieved, you get the rest. Five thousand now is the deposit."
He tossed a bag.
Seno opened it — cash.
"Five thousand? Are you serious?!"
"That's the price. Half upfront — considering you've kept people awake for days."
Hanz snorted quietly.
"Classic handler psychology. Pay them enough to hook them in — and not enough to walk away."
Seno, broken and exhausted, finally gave up.
"Fine. I'll get the rest later…"
The memory froze.
And then —
Rox came out of the BD. The smell of sandalwood returned — the room in Heavy Hearts sharpened back into focus.
Hanz set the headset aside and studied Rox.
Rox summarized instantly:
"There's a gold tiger statue on the passenger seat — maybe Tiger Claw connection. Chrome looks corpo-grade, but gangs have access too. No license plate. Data's missing key identifiers."
Hanz smiled — the first genuine approval he'd shown since they met.
"Sharp. This is why Hansen sent you."
A notification flashed across Rox's HUD:
> [Character: Hanz] Affection +20 → Current: 10]
[Reward: +2 Body | Bonus: +1 Body]
The system disappeared.
Hanz went to a tall cabinet and retrieved a long case — placing it deliberately in front of Rox.
"I originally intended to send you downstairs to the armory. But a tool is only as valuable as the man who uses it."
"You? I think you'll use this well."
"Find your own ammunition."
Rox opened the case.
Inside was a sleek, black rifle — long barrel, extended stabilizer, and a Tsunami signature cooling system.
The smell of fresh gun oil filled the air.
> [Epic Technical Sniper Rifle — "Nekomata"]
Manufacturer: Tsunami Arms
For the first time since he arrived in this world, Rox felt a spark of real excitement.
A weapon worthy of changing destiny.