Cyberpunk: 2075

"This is the remaining 1,500 after the down payment and the split."

With a 6,000 eddie payout, each of them got 2,000—a decent amount, considering it was more than what most Night City workers made in a month.

But for mercs like Carl, Oliver, and Jackie? It was just so-so.

On their way back, they bought some booze and hot food, finally returning to Oliver's apartment to resume the feast that had been interrupted.

"Shit, we did a lot today. I'm exhausted. No idea how those corpo dogs survive working twenty-hour shifts."

First Maelstrom, then Scavs—after all that, Carl was really feeling the exhaustion.

"I heard some corpo dogs literally remove part of their brain, so they can just pop stimulants and work for twenty-four hours straight."

Jackie said this as he tossed a drink toward Carl.

"Lil' Cola—straight from the heart!"

"The hell—get that nasty shit away from me."

Carl instinctively threw it back in disgust—except his aim sucked and it smacked Oliver in the head.

"Hey!"

"Shit—my bad, my bad."

Carl's flesh-and-blood body had no cybernetic enhancements—so when tired, he was prone to mistakes. He couldn't compare to those factory workers who could keep operating even while asleep, thanks to neural implants and cybernetic limbs.

"What time is it?"

Oliver rubbed his head and turned toward Jackie, who was lazily sprawled out on the couch with a beer in hand.

"Eight-thirty. Still early. Wanna watch a movie?"

Jackie grabbed a skewer of sauce-covered meat, took a bite, then suddenly lit up in surprise.

"Shit—this chicken skewer is legit. I swear, outside of Japantown, the only place that does it right is downtown."

"Legit?"

Carl squinted at Jackie's skewer, skeptical.

After a brief hesitation, he picked one up, stabbed a piece with a toothpick, and took a bite.

His expression immediately twisted in disgust.

"This shit is neither authentic in taste nor texture."

"Not everyone's bougie like you, Carl. 99% of Night City has never tasted real meat. Of course, the texture is gonna be bullshit."

Jackie chomped down on another bite of the soft, artificial chicken and glanced at Carl—who was struggling to swallow.

"Look, man. Living off just veggies ain't sustainable. Since you're so used to real meat and can't stomach the fake stuff, why don't we reach out to some Badlands smugglers? See if we can score some real meat for you?"

"That's gonna cost a shitload of eddies, right?"

Carl grabbed another handful of fries, stuffing them into his mouth while feeling tempted—but when he thought about the cost, he hesitated again.

"Actually, it's not that bad."

Being from Santo Domingo, a district close to the Badlands, Oliver had a good grasp of the market for real meat.

"A whole chicken runs about 1,000 eddies, and a whole pig is around 5,000 eddies. But that's just the base meat price—it doesn't include the smuggling fee, the bribes, or the transportation costs. Plus, you can't even guarantee the animal will arrive alive—but if it doesn't, they at least preserve it properly."

"1,000 eddies... 5,000 just for meat? That actually sounds reasonable?"

Carl was surprised that it didn't seem overly expensive. But when he thought about how a synthetic fried chicken meal in Night City was only 18 to 20 eddies, he realized that the 50x price gap was actually insane.

"For us, sure. But if you look at regular people, an entire month's salary might only be enough to buy one real chicken—and that's without accounting for all the checkpoints, bribes, and smuggler fees. In the end, you might spend more than 1,000 eddies and still never get your hands on it. That's why real meat is so rare in Night City."

Oliver continued, "Actually, pork is easier to get than chicken. Because of past bird flu outbreaks, Night City has strict poultry regulations—so getting real chicken means higher bribes at customs. If you're serious, I'd recommend getting pork instead."

"And if I wanted a whole pig—including all the smuggling fees?"

"Around 10,000 eddies would guarantee a successful delivery."

"10,000 eddies, huh..."

Carl had about 52,000 eddies right now. That meant his entire hard-earned savings were only worth five pigs.

Few corpos threw money around like Blanca.

"You could buy some damn good cyberware for that kind of money."

Jackie whistled, slightly shocked at the cost.

"Our discarded flesh isn't worth as much as a pig, huh?"

Oliver took a bite of his synth-meat taco, chewing thoughtfully.

"So, Carl—if you're serious, I can reach out to some contacts. Or, you could just get used to this 'real meat'—even if it's synthetic."

"Oliver, Jackie—you guys really have no interest in real meat?"

Carl had already decided to spend the money. A merc couldn't afford to skimp on food. But before buying, he wanted to see if Oliver and Jackie wanted to split the cost.

"Synth meat is made from worms, locusts, and other crap. I've been eating it since I was a kid, so my taste buds are already used to it. Honestly, if I ate real meat, I'd probably be just as uncomfortable as you are with synthetic. I'm good."

Oliver had zero interest in buying real pork. But Jackie... was interested.

"Actually... I'll buy some too."

Jackie nodded, then looked at Oliver.

"Hey, Oliver—do you think they could bring in real corn too? I wanna try making authentic tamales."

Tamales were a traditional Mexican dish, essential for Día de los Muertos, weddings, birthdays, and Jackie's personal favorite meal. But he'd only ever had them with synthetic pork and cornmeal—never the real thing.

"If they can, I'll ask around and let you know the price."

Oliver agreed, then glanced up at the TV—which had switched to a new report about the cyberpsycho incident in Kabuki.

"The cyberpsycho disappeared before the MAX-TAC response team arrived. Citizens in the area are advised to stay indoors."

Carl and Jackie both turned their attention to the news report.

"Disappeared?"

Jackie frowned.

"How far is Kabuki from here?"

Carl didn't even have to think about it.

"Thirty minutes on foot."

He'd literally walked from Industrial Zone to Kabuki and back to his apartment earlier that day—so he knew the distance perfectly.