Since Lin Miao had promised her to elevate her status, and she had revealed all she knew about the company over the past twenty years, let’s start with this man named Wolseck.
ERO has six directors in total. Kotaisky, although not the biggest shareholder, holds 21% of the shares. He lives in a large flat on Charter Mountain and can be considered wealthy in Night City.
Just like every Thursday, he has his driver take him in a luxury car to the Red Queen. He heard that a new batch of braindances and lambs arrived from Southeast Asia yesterday, quite thrilling, and is ready to give them a try.
Although his ancestors were not priests, the preferences have remained consistent, at least in Kotaisky’s eyes. Fancying boys, especially young boys, is a sign of exceptional taste, while women seem meaningless.
The vehicle moves along the street, flanked by monotonous scenes viewed countless times: filthy streets, vomit that never dries, homeless people who won’t die out, and unruly gangsters and mercenaries, all making Kotaisky uneasy.
Look at his attire and the Italian craftsman watch worth tens of thousands; how can he live amongst these people?
That damn NCPD takes so much of their tax every year, yet fails to maintain even basic law enforcement, leaving people like them constantly worried about assault.
You ask why he doesn’t take a floating car?
It’s not the Red Age anymore; a compliant floating car now costs at least 300,000, and a Zeta Technology Atlas with higher defense easily surpasses a million, excluding maintenance fees. With ERO’s dwindling prospects, even employees’ wages rely on criminal activities; how could directors afford such luxury for daily use?
But everything comes at a cost.
Kotaisky retrieves a bottle of treasured red wine from the car’s fridge; it’s crafted from original European vineyards, far superior to synthetic beverages.
Pouring himself a glass, he looks disdainfully at those struggling on the street.
Then he casually speaks to his driver and bodyguards:
"Koster, see? Anyone ending up in such dire straits in this Night City filled with Gold is doomed by their unwillingness to work hard and embrace hardship, which is the only way forward."
The driver, Koster, curses inwardly but dutifully responds, "Heh, boss, you’re right."
The bodyguards remain silent, pretending not to hear anything.
Kotaisky shakes his head, holding his wine, begins to relish the solitude, feeling like the only refined person in the car while others are crude and unbearable.
Suddenly, as his luxury vehicle is about to cross an intersection, a rundown van originally parked by the roadside ignores the red light and slams the accelerator, crashing fiercely into the side of the luxury car.
Both vehicles spin towards the roadside.
The van’s hood crumples, shattered webs crawl along its windows before collapsing into shards, whereas the luxury car only suffers slight door deformity, not even breaking the bulletproof windows.
But the unexpected collision spills Kotaisky’s wine all over, leaving him dazed.
The bodyguards, seeing the distinct green light shadow masks of the attackers, pin Kotaisky beneath the car seat and shout to the driver:
"It’s the Scavengers! Move!"
In Night City, if you ask which gang has the worst reputation, the Scavengers would be the undisputed answer.
Fortunately, the luxury car has bulletproof glass, and its body is reinforced, so ordinary bullets pose no threat.
The driver, now conscious, immediately prepares to rev the engine and awaken the stalled motor; however, he is horrified to see the big Scavenger on the van driver’s seat, left hand deploying a projectile launcher.
Bullets cannot penetrate, but this definitely can.
With just a single shot, the passenger window shatters, followed by bullets like a storm, shredding the bodyguard and driver into pieces.
Two other bodyguards in the car open the doors to counterattack, shielding the employer’s escape, but their combat abilities, and numbers pale in comparison to the Scavengers, quickly falling in battle.
Within a minute, the driver and bodyguards were dead. Kotaisky, terrified, loses his soul, gets out of the car, and attempts to flee, completely forgetting the high-grade implants he also possesses.
The Scavengers deliberately avoid targeting Kotaisky throughout the battle; otherwise, he could have triggered a call to the Trauma Team. With their firepower, they could save him.
As for why an ERO company director doesn’t buy their own insurance but opts for the Trauma Team’s, that’s another story.
The big guy waves his hand, "Grab him, NCPD will be here soon! And watch out for his Trauma Team membership!"
A scrawny Scavenger catches up to the fleeing Kotaisky within a few strides, two swift cuts severing the fat man’s limbs, and his rounded body rolls several meters under inertia.
With death looming, Kotaisky suddenly erupts with strong survival instincts.
Right, the Trauma Team; he’s injured, and they can arrive in seven minutes!
He desperately wriggles his body backward, trying to distance himself from the approaching Scavenger, continuously shouting:
"Don’t take me; you just want money, right? I can give it; whatever you want, as much as you need!"