20: Chapter 20 Unforgettable Memories

The kick with which Jackie rushed in was like throwing a grenade into a cesspit.

The roar of the shotgun reverberated between the iron walls, each blast wrapped in the screams of Scavengers and the crisp sound of cybernetic parts shattering.

The warehouse was piled with discarded shelves and rusted shipping containers. Those scumbags tried to use cover to fight back, but they didn't know that their positions were as bright as lightbulbs in Lin Yi's eyes—Insight marked every heat signature clearly, sharing them in real-time to Jackie's ocular cyberware.

Lin Yi followed a few steps behind Jackie, the "Shadow" in his hand calmly calling the roll. One shot, one kill, specifically targeting those trying to raise their guns, those attempting to flank, or those abandoning their accomplices to run deeper inside. Their coordination was devoid of any unnecessary words; it was fluid, efficient, like a precision meat grinder.

The battle quickly reached its conclusion. Six out of seven heat sources were extinguished. The last one was curled up behind a console in the corner, having thrown away his gun, hands raised above his head, the whole person trembling like a sieve.

"D-don't kill me! The goods are all yours! Take them all!" The voice was so shrill it didn't sound human, the tail end twisted into a sob by fear.

Jackie strode forward, the muzzle of his shotgun pressed directly against the guy's forehead. "Damn it, you kidney-cutting bastards know how to beg for mercy too?" His voice squeezed through his teeth, carrying a low growl more terrifying than a roar. "When you were dismantling the living people lying here, why didn't you think about sparing them?"

"We... we're just doing business..."

"Doing your mother's business!"

The moment the trigger was pulled, the close-range roar swallowed all other sounds. The warehouse suddenly quieted down, so quiet one could hear the sound of blood dripping from the table. The smell of gunpowder and the stench of blood mixed together, thick enough to stick in the throat.

Jackie wiped the stuff splattered on his face, exhaled a long breath, turned back, and grinned at Lin Yi: "Done! Clean and quick!"

Lin Yi didn't reply.

His gaze crossed over Jackie and pinned onto the thick plastic sheet deep in the warehouse. This was the location where he had previously scanned for low-temperature storage equipment and abnormal chemical odors. An ominous premonition crawled up his spine, cold and slimy, like a snake wrapping around his heart.

"I'll go check it out." His voice was a bit dry, and his legs felt heavy as he stepped forward.

Jackie didn't think much of it; he crouched down to rummage through the "spoils" of those Scavengers on the ground, muttering about whether he could find anything valuable.

Lin Yi lifted the plastic sheet stained with unknown filth. A scent of preservatives and blood, so thick it was almost solid, slammed into him, and his stomach turned instantly. Inside was a makeshift "operating room"—the pale, ghastly light of the shadowless lamp shone down on two surgical chairs side by side, the dark red grime on the chair surfaces already crusted over.

His gaze first fell on the chair on the left.

A man, bound tightly with restraints, his chest cavity completely cut open with crude incisions, clearly having had some cybernetic implant violently removed. His eyes were still open, but his pupils had already dilated; only a faint, bellows-like wheezing sound came from deep in his throat. He wouldn't last more than a few minutes. This scene was cruel enough, but placed in Night City, inside a Scavenger den, it hadn't exceeded Lin Yi's psychological expectations.

His gaze subconsciously turned to the right.

Time seemed to have its throat choked at that moment.

On the chair was a woman. Her abdomen—he couldn't bear to look a second time. His stomach churned violently, and he forced himself to look away, then saw the cold metal tray beside it.

The thing in the tray made his brain "buzz," like someone had struck the back of his head with a blunt club.

That was not a cybernetic implant. Not a part. Not "goods."

It was a baby. Just formed, curled up, the umbilical cord still winding towards its mother. It had long since ceased to breathe.

Beside it, the tripod of a braindance recording device stood quietly, its lens coldly aimed at this human tragedy. The red recording indicator light had long gone out—as if even the machine couldn't bear the weight of it, choosing to close its eyes.

A suppressed, almost deformed, strange sound squeezed out of Lin Yi's throat; it wasn't a roar, it wasn't a cry, it was like something being crushed underfoot. The air seemed to have been sucked out in an instant, a giant boulder pressing on his chest, making it impossible to breathe. The visual impact and an anger and grief surging from the depths of his bone marrow twisted together, almost tearing him in two.

He spun around violently, almost stumbling his way out, the sound of him crashing through the plastic sheet alerting Jackie outside.

"Hey! Brother, what's wrong?" Jackie looked up, startled by the bloodless face of Lin Yi, and subconsciously reached out to steady him.

Lin Yi couldn't speak, only point to the plastic sheet behind him. His fingers were trembling, though he didn't notice it himself. He leaned against the cold shelf nearby, bent over, gasping for air, wanting to expel the air soaked in death and despair from his lungs—but that smell seemed to have seeped into his alveoli, impossible to displace no matter how he breathed.

Jackie frowned, lifted the plastic sheet, and walked in.

It was quiet inside for a few seconds. Lin Yi could hear Jackie's heavy breathing, one breath, two breaths, and then it stopped.

When Jackie came out, the ease on his face had completely faded. But unlike Lin Yi's shattered reaction, what was on his face was heavier, older, like the numbness that settles in after having seen it countless times, and a layer of disgust that could never be worn away.

He walked to Lin Yi's side, fished out a real cigarette from his pocket—not the synthetic trash on the market—lit it, and took a deep drag. The flame lit up in the dim warehouse, then dimmed. He handed the cigarette to Lin Yi.

"Take a drag. High-grade stuff. Ease up."

Lin Yi didn't take it, leaning against the shelf with his eyes closed.

Jackie sighed, exhaling the smoke, which twisted into a ball under the dim light and slowly dissipated. He spoke in that slightly hoarse voice, his tone surprisingly calm:

"Hey, mano, I know you're hurting. The first time I stumbled upon a scene like this, I threw up for a whole day and had nightmares for half a month."

He paused and put the cigarette back in his mouth.

"But this is Night City. These Scavenger scumbags can't be considered human—they are beasts wearing human skin. You'll never understand what's in their heads, how they could do such a thing to their own kind." His voice held no anger, but rather a kind of worn-through exhaustion. "Anger is useless. Disgust is useless. All we can do is kill one for every one we encounter. Sending them to hell is the greatest mercy for them—and also a piece of useless comfort for those they've harmed."

He reached out and patted Lin Yi's shoulder, his grip firm, carrying that street-style, clumsy but authentic strength.

"Remember this disgust. Remember this fire. But don't let it crush you. In this fucked-up city, soft-hearted people don't live long. You have to be harder and crueler than them to survive—to have a chance to send more of these scumbags to their graves."

Lin Yi slowly opened his eyes, meeting Jackie's gaze—he had seen too much darkness, but there was still something burning inside, not yet extinguished.

He reached out and took the cigarette, taking a drag. The acrid taste of inferior tobacco choked his lungs, triggering a bout of coughing, but it also brought a strange, living sense of reality. The smell of blood and gunpowder was still in the air, but the feeling of oppression that had almost suffocated him seemed to loosen just a little.

"Let's go." He stood up straight, his voice still hoarse, but he had regained his composure. "There's nothing worth staying for here."

Before leaving, he looked back at the thick plastic sheet. His eyes were cold.

Some smells, once you've smelled them, you can never wash them from your memory.

And these memories can only be settled with blood.