Jackie and I split up, with me leaving at about 7PM to meet with the Militech contact. She certainly sounded vicious over the phone, demanding to know who she’s speaking with and using blunt, no-nonsense language. Anyone else might’ve been intimidated, but I’ve been in her position several times; I know desperate when I hear it. “Listen, I know about your little fuck up,” I said just as bluntly, “So listen to me. You will agree to meet with me. Because we both have problems, and I believe we can help each other out.”

  “Hm. Mutual self-interest… Agreed.” She gave me the directions and time and told me not to make her wait; I had no such plans in-mind.

  Jackie texted me to ask whether I’d like some backup at the meeting, though he already knew the answer. I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline as I parked up by the exit into the concrete river, not unlike the River I used to live in back home. Granted, this one wasn’t nearly as built-up as the River; that was truly a sight to behold, with the great yellow canal locks forming an imposing status symbol for the elite among us Rats. Nevertheless, this river held its own aura, the roadway leading down lined with red lighting. I remember Misty telling Jackie to “avoid mean reds,” I suppose it was good that I insisted he stayed behind.

  Meredith Stout. A Militech equivalent to something resembling my old job of field agent. I got out of my car and donned my jacket, electing to openly brandish my sword to show that I’m not hiding anything. There’s no point in strip-searching people when their very bodies and minds can incapacitate; most people don’t bat an eye to a sword. Concealing a weapon, on the other hand, betrays a lack of trust, not the best way to start a conversation based on mutual interest.

  What is it with Militech and bringing overwhelming firepower to every meeting they have. It’s not like they’re carrying some sort of prototype tech; that ship’s already sailed. I suppose it’s just to save face. Working with them has been the bane of my existence for years. The chain of command was the most egregiously rigid structure in the world, I had no doubt. Trying to deal with these people and their fucking superiority complexes made me want to claw my eyes out back then; I’m sure not much has changed.

  “Look lively,” she said to her bodyguards as I walked around them, eyeballing each one in-turn. Two large gentlemen, plus a drone or two in the trucks, no doubt. Combat implants all around. Artificial muscle strands that bristled out of their bodies like the Animals, wordlessly staring at me. And, of course, the woman of the hour herself, dressed to impress with that slick-looking suit of hers. “Meredith Stout,” she introduced herself, “Take it you were the one to call?” She extended her hand and smiled, like I was some fucking idiot who didn’t see an ambush when it was coming.

  Still, I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to get on their bad side. Not when we both have vested stakes in this. So I reached for her hand and took the blow – quite literally.

  One of the men decked me from the left-side, though I was able to brace myself for the hit and easily took the pain, though it left me floored with ears ringing. “I wouldn’t do that,” the man clutched at my left arm as I instinctively reached for my sword out of muscle memory.

  “Mmh,” I groaned, “Apologies.”

  “Thought you could blackmail me, bitch?!” Meredith charged at me, “Set conditions?” Set the hook for her to collect, take it easy. It’s a dance. Make her think she has the edge. “Got any more for me?!”

  I chose not to respond, instead letting the man help me to my feet and press me to the SUV’s left fender. He immediately took out his Personal Link, jabbing it into my neck’s access port and analyzing me inside and out. “Anything?” she asked of the mountain of a man plugged into my neck, looking for any sign of deceit. Amateurs are clearly in a hurry, they didn’t even throw me in the car for a quick exit in case I had backup. All he had was a pistol pointed at my head, yet if I introduced a daemon into him, nobody else would’ve been any the wiser at this point. Hell of a risk.

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  “Jesus Christ, Meredith, what the fuck?!” a voice echoed from the background and the other soldier produced a hostage from the second SUV. A man, looked to be in his late-20s, tightly-bound and screaming for his life as the bodyguard tossed his body around like it was a piece of crunched-up paper. “Who the fuck is she! What are you-”

  “Shut up!” she interrupted his ranting before turning back to the man hacking into me, “You, find anything?”

  “All set,” he replied, still leveling his gun at my temple.

  “Hm,” she nodded, “Now answer my questions. Honestly, forthrightly - Are you alone?” she leaned into her stare, looking straight at my eyes as she gauged my every twitch. Thankfully I didn’t have to lie to her yet. She actually seems competent, though certainly trying to assert a position from a faulty foundation.

  “I’ll tell you who’s alone. You,” I fired back, “Failed to recover your transport. And now you’re here. With not a soul to help you. How very isolated your position is.”

  “Hmph, not another word,” she demanded, “Do a sweep. Now.” Meredith fell back to the hostage, whimpering and choking on his own spit while he struggled in the stress-position. A drone popped up out of the truck, presumably hunting for any backup I may have brought. Jackie, meanwhile, was likely headed to All-Foods right now, Maelstrom’s base of operations here in Night City – well out of range. So this is merely one fucked corpo talking to another, and everything else was nothing more than theatrics. “So listen up,” she returned to me, “This piece of shit. Anthony Gilchrist. Is he your contact? Is he the one who leaked info on the convoy?” Likely he was. But not to me. I have no idea how this bitch is confusing me for someone working for Maelstrom, of all organizations.

  “Do I sound like I have contacts in Militech, or are you really that dense?” I criticized, “I have no contacts with them. None.”

  “...Checks out,” the man beside me indicated, removing the jack from my head.

  “Hmph, so how the fuck do you know so much?” Meredith asked.

  “Because all corpos use the same playbook. I’ve been in this business long enough to know it inside and out,” I argued, “I know where your transport is, where Maelstrom have stored it. I can help you. Just want a favor in return.”

  “Hmm,” she pondered, walking away from me after sensing the truth in my words.

  “Fuck-I told you, I fucking told you, I’m not the mole, Jesus Christ!” Actually he said nothing of the sort, merely that I don’t know him. He may still be Maelstrom’s contact. Or one of her bodyguards, though I doubt that. They typically know nothing more than the immediate mission.

  “Shut him up!” she shouted, waving her hand at the bodyguard covering the supposed mole, Anthony Gilchrist. I couldn’t blame her. The guy gave me the distinct sensation that he was made and is trying desperately to seem innocent. A look characterized by answering questions nobody asked him.

  “Unhand me now before I-ugh!” he groaned as the man violently shoved him into the back seat of the truck. I held no sympathies for someone who held no loyalties, and if he was who they say he was, then good riddance.

  “Her you can let go,” she motioned to the man holding my arm, “Want to hear what she has to say.” I kept my hands up, though well within reach of my sword. “Hm, nice blade,” she complimented, “Steal it off someone?”

  Technically yes, though it was my birthright. “No,” I answered directly, “Nice pistol. Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

  “Hmph,” she growled.

  “I need a bot. Flathead model,” I continued, “The people who ripped you off have it. I can point you in their direction.”

  “And what, you gonna deal with ‘em with that fancy sword of yours?”

  “I could. But they’re expecting me – I’m a potential buyer, you see. Either way, I will walk out of there with the Flathead in-hand.”

  “Hmph,” Meredith bit her lower lip, “Fine, the latter. But you’ll do it with our money.” She headed back to the car, the henchman finally dropping his sidearm. Seems we have an agreement, though not quite yet.

  “Hmm?” I tilted my head, “That the kind of subtlety Militech teaches its new recruits, or do you assume I don’t know what I’m doing?” I accused, “You would never insist on such a procedure unless you spiked this chip.”

  “That is true,” she confessed right off the bat.

  “Yet, if something goes wrong, you’re the one having the party and I’m stuck cleaning up after. In order for me to risk that, I need you to be straight with me. What’s on that disk?”

  “A tracing algorithm,” she clarified, “Latches onto financial streams. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “On the contrary,” I fired back, “Such a device is clearly intended to root out the mole. You care about nothing else, least of all me – suffice it to say, the feeling is mutual. Nevertheless, I am in the best position to help y-”

  “Enough,” she interrupted, “Fine. Find out who’s the mole, you’ll have your Flathead. Take this.”

  “Agreed,” I nodded, “Expect a signal later tonight.”

  “You pay with that chip, and that’s all you gotta worry about,” she accepted, “Try and fuck me in any way, and I’ll be seein’ you real soon.” With that, Meredith and the rest of the crew got into the SUV and headed off down the access tunnel.

  Hmph. Time to call Jackie and set up that meeting with Maelstrom.