Oliver continued. "Controlling an Mech inside ACPA with a human body means dealing with massive G-Force during movement. A fragile human body cannot take that much. It is not that ACPA values Cyberware more, but that only bodies strengthened by enough Cyberware can even endure ACPA."
"I see. But what does G G-Force mean?"
"Did you not watch the Aviation Guide Braindance I recommended? Simply put, it is the heavy acceleration forces your body suffers during high speed movement."
"I did not finish it. I did not really get it."
Carl said that, but he more or less understood the relationship between Cyberware and ACPA. They were not opposing choices, but things that supported each other, like a wooden shaft and the iron spearhead mounted on it. Together, they became stronger.
Once that question was answered, another followed.
"But since Militech and Arasaka do not allow ACPA to appear openly in Night City, are they not afraid that some corporation or a gang like 6th Street could hide ACPA and launch an attack on their key people there?"
This time, Oliver explained it to Carl.
"That is because ACPA is strong, but it is not invincible against Cyberware. Do you know how much a good ACPA costs, Carl? Take the small ACPA units in 6th Street for example. They are relatively cheap, around 1.4 million Eurodollars each. But do you know how much money it takes to destroy one on the battlefield?"
"Money?"
"For corporations, human lives mean nothing. Only money matters. They measure everything in cost. I once heard war veterans from 6th Street say that on the battlefield, even light ACPA worth 1.4 million, or even medium and heavy ones, could be taken down by sending out a few veteran soldiers with Sianwei Stan and tech weapons. And do you know how much those veteran soldiers, treated as expendable, actually cost?"
Sianwei Stan was a type of Cyberware that could temporarily push human muscles and reflexes to their limits, making the outside world feel slowed down.
To destroy high value ACPA, all it took was Cyberware veterans risking their lives.
Carl nodded in understanding. "So the values do not match."
"That is basically it. Companies only look at the numbers."
Now that he understood, Carl did not ask the foolish question of what would happen if a Sianwei Stan veteran also wore ACPA. By Oliver's logic, an ACPA pilot already needed heavy Cyberware just to qualify, and adding Sianwei on top of that would likely mean going cyberpsycho mid battle and attacking friend and foe alike.
The consequences of stuffing yourself with too much Cyberware were something even street punks knew.
They had spent enough time talking about ACPA. Carl checked the message from the Contract contact. The vehicle would arrive downstairs in one minute, so it was time to move the target. He copied the ACPA related image files from the Scavengers computer, then raised his pistol and shot the machine to pieces.
"We can talk about this more later over food and drinks. Let us finish this job first."
Finding ACPA data inside Scavenger Den was certainly strange, but without more intelligence, knowing it changed nothing. There was nowhere deeper they could dig at the moment.
"Fine. It will be a good topic for later. But before that."
Jack Welles glanced around the room filled with messy piles of stripped Cyberware. "I need to call NCPD first. We should be glad there are not many bodies here, just a lot of removed Cyberware. Otherwise I would definitely have nightmares tonight."
Of course, Jack Welles was joking. A man who had once come from Valentinos was not going to be scared by a few corpses.
At the mention of calling NCPD, Oliver raised an eyebrow.
"Calling NCPD? They will probably come, confiscate all this Cyberware, then turn around and sell it to ripperdocs who deal in secondhand Cyberware."
Even as he said that, Oliver still made the call to NCPD. Compared to trash like Scavengers, NCPD at least had some bottom line, even if it was not much.
"That is one thousand five hundred, on top of what was already split after the deposit."
The total pay was six thousand, so each of them ended up with two thousand. It was higher than what most workers in Night City made in a month, but for mercs like Carl, Oliver, and Jack Welles, it was nothing special. It was enough to cover costs and leave a little extra, but not enough to feel rich.
After buying some alcohol and hot food on the way, the three of them went back to Oliver's room. They picked up the meal that had been interrupted earlier and spread the food out on the table. The room smelled of grease, sauce, and cheap beer.
"We did a lot today. I am exhausted," Carl said. "I really do not know how those Corpo Rats who work twenty hours a day manage to keep going."
Between Maelstrom and Scavengers, the day had been packed with trouble. Once things finally settled down, the fatigue hit him all at once. His shoulders felt heavy, and his hands were slower than usual.
"I heard some Corpo Rats have a part of their brain removed," Jack Welles said. "After that, they just use stimulants and can work nonstop for twenty four hours."
As he spoke, Jack Welles tossed a drink over to Carl. "Mini Cola, love in every sip."
"Do not gross me out. I do not like this cola."
Carl caught it, then immediately tossed it back in disgust. His aim was off, and the bottle hit Oliver in the head as it passed by Jack Welles.
"Hey!"
"Sorry, sorry."
Carl's body did not have much augmentation, and when he was tired, mistakes like this happened. He could not compare to people with mechanical limbs, some of whom could keep working even while asleep because chips in their heads and prosthetic arms kept moving. For factory workers like that, rest was optional.
"What time is it now?"
Rubbing his head, Oliver asked Jack Welles, who was sprawled on the sofa drinking beer.
"Eight thirty. Still early," Jack Welles said. "Want to watch a movie?"
He grabbed a skewer of chicken covered in sauce and shoved it into his mouth. While chewing the soft meat, he sounded pleasantly surprised. "This chicken skewer tastes way too authentic. I knew it, outside of Japantown, only City Center does it right."
"Authentic?"
Carl looked at the sweet and sour sauce on the skewer with suspicion. After hesitating, he picked one up, used a toothpick to pull off a piece, and put it into his mouth.
His face twisted.
"No matter the taste or the texture, this does not count as authentic."
"Not everyone has eaten real chicken like you," Jack Welles said. "These days, ninety nine percent of people in Night City have never had real meat. Of course the texture is fake. To us, this is authentic enough."
As Jack Welles ate the soft synthetic chicken and watched Carl struggle to swallow his bite, he thought for a moment. "Living on fake food forever is not great. Since you are used to real meat and cannot stand this stuff, how about we find some smugglers from Badlands and see if they can bring some real meat in for you?"
"That would be expensive, right?"
Carl picked up a bucket of French Fries and started eating again. He was tempted, but the price made him hesitate.
"It is actually not that bad."
Being from Santo Domingo, close to Badlands, Oliver knew the market well. "A chicken is about one thousand Eurodollars. A pig is around five thousand Eurodollars. That is just the meat price, not counting the Contract cost and bribes. Transport does not guarantee they arrive alive, but even if they die, they do basic preservation."
"One thousand or five thousand just for the meat," Carl said. "That sounds like I could accept it."