In light of a recent wave of concentrated attacks on scav hideouts by the Tyger Claws I've decided to use this episode of our podacast to shed some light on the most prolific and notorious "gang" of the Night City - Scavengers.
Now, if I were to ask you to describe me a scav, most of you would say a holographic green mask, a tracksuit and a russian accent, and you wouldn't be wrong if it weren't for the fact that none of these make a scav - a scav. Scavenger by definition is someone who illegally harvests organs and cybernetics from the deceased and that criteria includes far more people than 10000 gangbangers projected by NCPD.
To give you some perspective - more than half of all cybernetics on the market are second hand; the majority of those have scrubbed serial numbers and busted identification chips; ⅓ of those, still have an active update plans or subscription packages. These numbers and some napkin math tell me that 24% of all chrome in Night City had previous owners who didn't just simply decide to upgrade their hardware. If only 10000 people were responsible for pushing so much "product", then corpos should really look into hiking up their productivity charts because these industrious entrepreneurs outcompete even the best of them.
So who are those who don't wear the "colors" yet still dabble in chrome re-acquisition? Practically everyone. Corpos, gangers, city officials, doctors, rippers. Everyone who isn't afraid of getting their hands dirty. And that's not an exaggeration.
Where do you think all the cyberware goes when Zetatech loses its soldiers during an opportunistic raid from a local gang? Straight into the hands of a Quartermaster of Mortuary Affairs. From there it will slowly but surely trickle down to the hands of the prospective customers. After all, you signed the contract! Even if you have been wiping your ass with those chromed mittens for the past 10 years, it still is a company property. And the company will squeeze every possible eddie with no qualms about ethics or morals.
Ever wondered why sometimes, after a particularly big gang shootout, there is meatwagon present not even 10 minutes later? Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but those are not hardworking medics who just happened to be nearby. They are the members of the winning gang who decided to play a little dress up. After the van is filled with corpses, it will travel to a gang owned clinic or crematorium, where their own gang members will get proper rites. Everyone else - "processed" and straight into the oven.
Now, actual medical professionals aren't without options either, when it comes to separating your mortal remains and from perfectly refurbishable chrome. All they have to do it tick off the "damaged during operation" box and pocket it themselves. Nothing complicated.
Nothing I said is particularly new and revelationary to those who lived in NC for a while so why if everyone does it, only the tracksuit wearing, Russian swearing, green mask wearing Scavengers are singled out for this practice? Because that particular breed of scum don't wait for their "donors" to kick the bucket.
Just like a Tino might kill you for your fancy car, 6th street soldier for a fancy gun, Scav might just shank you for your beautiful eyes. To cynical residents of NC none of these things might be all that different but only Scavs look at people like merchandise.
So how they came to be, those dregs of society?
It all started in the 30s when Soviets rolled out their new "policy" relating to dangerous domestic elements. Now we all know that is all just a jargon that can and will be interpreted to the benefit of the interpreter, so to dumb it down, that meant undesirables. Political dissenters, journalists, foreign nationals and most importantly for our discussion - criminals.
During the fall of the first USSR in 91, the briefly capitalist Russia experienced an explosion of organized criminal activity. With a volatile economy that was hanging by the thread and with the government in absolute disarray, the opportunity for a quick and illegal buck was overflowing. It was no wonder that by the time of reunification, every 10th household in Russia had something to do with a dirty eddie.
The reunification itself, however, was an even bigger catalyst for organized criminal activity.
The heavy-handed attempts by the New Soviet government to get rid of the seedy underbelly forced small-time gangs to consolidate. Sounds bizarre, but it's true. The resistance towards the return of the previous status quo from a sizable minority of the population allowed criminal elements to escape the initial wave of crackdowns relatively unharmed. Yet, with the hunt still on, the return to business for them could only happen when they had the power to fight back. And that's how "bratva", a Russian slang meant to label any gang, became Bratva - the largest criminal organization in USSR.
So what Soviets did in the face of an actual opposition? They implemented the "policy" I mentioned. With the hammer in one hand, they decided to pick up a broom instead of the sickle. From that moment onwards, every man who was looking for a lifetime sentence in the dreary Siberia, could mention a couple of his friends, by name, to make it easier on himself and receive a ticket to somewhere far away. Away from all the troubles that he might have had back in his home country. Get a rare chance to have a new life.
Of course not everyone wanted to start over, so by the 2050s Bratva became an international organization consisting of smaller branches over the world, founded by those who haven't completely severed their connections with their old friends. In the late 60s one of such gang was Night City Myasniki. Or put in English - Butchers. Their MO? To be feared.
After the Unification War, the situation in Night City was chaotic. Gangs had unprecedented leeway in their operations, and Myasniki used that chaos to create the reputation they so desperately wanted. Every month you would hear on the news about NCPigs discovering yet another torture chamber that belonged to them. On the streets, you would hear hushed whispers about a new underground XBD, that was "absolutely mental". If you had the guts to view it, then you would see how Butchers dealt with their enemies. Cut off lips, scalps, eyelids were just the smallest part of it. Unfortunately for Butchers, their reputation outgrew their capabilities, and the NCPD had to do something about it. The gang ceased to exist by the next month.
What did survive though is what you see today among the Scavs. The distorted smiley face on a holoprojecter instead of a mask, cheap tracksuits that you can dispose of when things get bloody and most importantly the unmatched ruthlessness and savagery. There is no other gang that comes even close to the level of fear that Scav inflict on your everyday man.
They don't have the territory, they don't have the leader, they don't have anything that could put them on the level of an actual gang besides their reputation. Reputation they build up from the remnants of an old gang, despicable acts and utter disregard for the rules and the law, be it written or unwritten.
To be Scav is to be feared. And despised. Because no matter the Rep, they are nothing more than desperate rats that try to hide their inadequacy through depraved acts and silly dress up that reminds them of times when they were something more.