I didn’t really care how advisable it was to drive in my condition. I could see better than I’ve ever seen before, as far as I was concerned. Implants, my ass. This was by far the superior upgrade. The whole world appeared as if it was lit by a bright neon sign all of a sudden; the fog colored everything so vividly, so… differently. Like a frosty lens diffusing the colors into one another. It was beautiful, captivating, like looking at a painting.

  I pulled into the lot directly across from where Dex’s big-ass Villefort sat, looking like a massive black fist punching a hole through the fog bank. Let’s see if he’s all Jackie cracked him up to be.

  A massive hulk of a man stood by the door, blocking my entry with a firm shake of his head before eyeballing my sword. An expression which made me… annoyed. It’s considered extremely disrespectful to force a samurai to disrobe in such a manner. I was about two steps away from cleaving his head off when the window opened, cigar smoke billowing out. “It’s okay, Oleg, let ‘er in. She won’t try anythin’,” a deep, resonant voice echoed from inside. The man complied and opened the door with nay a single tell of emotion on his face.

  “Will she?” he continued as I unclipped my sword and climbed in the back seat, the supple leather creaking and groaning as I sat down and got comfortable. “Miss V, a pleasure,” he nodded.

  “Dexter DeShawn, ample, indeed,” I courteously bowed. The man looked to be at least 175 kilograms, easy, dressed in designer loungewear and smoking what smelled like the genuine article. Certainly knows how to make a first-impression for the uninitiated, it must be said. His bodyguard Oleg slid into the driver’s seat and the car slowly lurched back onto the road.

  “Hm, nice sword,” he noted, “Family heirloom?” I tucked Shinden in between my legs, setting it down gently and deliberately so as to not present a threat. “Handle looks like real silk, too.”

  I didn’t reply, instead subtly moving it away from Dex. I’ve seen better theatrics from a fucking Academy play. The mystique behind meeting in a car was nothing more than a mask to me. Give me something tangible. Prove to me that you’re worth my time. Worth Jackie’s time. “...Hm,” he pondered for a couple seconds, taking another drag of his cigar.

  “So humor me, Miss V. You like a good mixed drink?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take, uh, a coconut sake colada, for instance.” I assume he means Jackie and I. “Love it when you mix it. But not much of a fan of ‘em separate, ya dig?”

  “We are all greater than the sum of our parts,” I elaborated.

  “See? Exactly my point,” he tapped the loose embers off the cigar, “Greater than the sum of your parts… I like that.”

  “Is this a test?”

  “Is what?”

  “The theatrics. Meeting me here, in this car. Beneath a shady overpass in the late-evening.”

  “Nah, that ain’t no test. Call me old fashioned, but when I do biz wit’ someone new, I wanna look at ‘em straight in the eye.” Yet you refuse to remove your sunglasses, I thought to myself, Bit contrarian of you. Nevertheless, I can see why you hooked Jackie.

  “Very well, look me in the eye, then,” I insisted, staring directly at him, unblinking and revealing no emotions with my blank stare. He did the same – a classic tool in measuring up the opposition, yet he maintained the veneer of the cigar smoke and sunglasses. An interesting tactic, though one I was well-versed in. There’s a certain art to creating the right atmosphere for an interrogation. The question was, who was interrogating who.

  “Right. Onto the matter at-hand. You seem like a business-before-pleasure kinda gal, am I right?”

  “Respectfully, my pleasure is nobody else’s business.”

  “Heh, indeed,” he produced a mild chuckle, “I’mma be straight wit’chou, then. Got a job. Serious one, plain gargantuan compared to raidin’ some scav haunt. And a special little pre-mission planned just for you.”

  “Go on.”

  “There’s this… biochip. Prototype tech. Job’s to klep it, get out. Simple.”

  “We both know it’s not simple, Mr. DeShawn. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gone out of your way to enlist a full crew’s services.”

  “Mm, simple in principle. Just one complication: who owns it.”

  “If it’s a prototype biochip, only one reasonable answer to that question. Which corporation, though.”

  “Arasaka,” he said in a serious tone, “Trust that won’t be a problem for you?”

  “That depends on how many measures you have in-place to keep us all in one piece,” I said bluntly, “Stealing prototype technology from the most powerful corporation in the world isn’t exactly what I would call an ideal weekend.”

  “What can I say, Miss V – high risk, high reward. First rule of the Afterlife.”

  “No offense, Mr. DeShawn, but I don’t plan on visiting the afterlife anytime soon.”

  “Claire does make a killer drink, though,” he muttered to himself, “Y’know, I’mma be real for a second. I wasn’t sure who was gonna sit down in the car. Jackie didn’t say much ‘bout you, and T-Bug and I go way back. You’re the unknown here. But I admire your bluntness and honesty. So lemme be honest in return,” he leaned in close, “I know you and Jackie got some kinda history. I know Jackie’s strong. But it takes two to make it anywhere in this biz, we both know that. And I’m pretty sure that, strong as he is, he wasn’t the only one pullin’ his weight, know what I’m sayin’?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You’re banking on the package-deal.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’m bankin’ on,” he elaborated, “I wanna do this job clean an’ on the hush-hush. Clean and quiet, jus’ like that. We understand each other?”

  “So then why bother hiring Jackie at all. Just get a skilled ‘runner and a solo specializing in stealth plays.”

  “Let’s just say… I believe that we’re greater than the sum of our parts, like a good mixed drink. Jackie’s a key ingredient here, don’tcha worry ‘bout that.” On the contrary, I’m quite worried about that; whatever affects Jackie affects me, after all. But I’ll get that information directly from Jackie.

  “Mm. So what’s my role, then?”

  “Two things. First’s a conundrum with some Maelstrom boys. Needs active resolvin’, that. Second’s a simple rendezvous. Client who brought us the job’s anxious. Wants to sit down an’ parley with one o’ the team.”

  “I fail to see why the client is my problem. I’m here to do a job.”

  “Like me, she wants to know who she’s workin’ with personally. Woman’s name is Evelyn Parker. Vettin’ her wa’nt easy. Put the word out I was lookin’ for any kinda intel…”

  “And?”

  “Some brothers over in Pacifica told me to stop lookin’. Period.”

  “Ah. So you need me to liaise with her to get the full picture.”

  “Mhm. Said she wanted to meet with someone wit’ skin in the game. Be there through it all.” He took a final puff of his cigar before placing it in the ashtray. “Yours truly’ll be remote. T-Bug ain’t no people-person. Jackie’s only good at some things – I know you know what I mean. That leaves you.”

  “Right, that’s easy enough,” I nodded, “And what about this Maelstrom problem?”

  “Got a classic tale for ya,” he leaned back against the door, “Psychogang doin’ its thing two weeks back. Jumped a Militech convoy, got away with the gear. Corp don’t even know Maelstrom’s involved… Now see, convoy was carryin’ the Flathead, a little combat bot, a prototype. And I need that bit o’ high-grade military tech.” Great, so we’re stealing two prototypes now, I suppose. “Don’t get excited, it’s a single-use toy. But if we don’t get that bot, we don’t get no ‘Saka chip. Jackie don’t get his happily-ever-after, and you gotta live wit’ that.”

  “Stealing that is a far taller order than simply meeting with a client.”

  “Nah, you’re not stealin’ anything. I flat-out purchased the thing from Maelstrom,” he continued, “Problem is, I did so wit’ a gent by the name of Brick. Three days later, his fellow gangmate, one Simon Randall, AKA Royce, straight dropped his ass.”

  “Hm. So the person you made a deal with is dead. And you don’t know if this ‘Royce’ character knows about this affair.”

  “Oh I’m sure he knows ‘bout it, question is if he’ll honor it.”

  “Mm, I see the issue.”

  “To add to this ‘Shitstrom,’ a corpo named Meredith Stout has developed an interest in said convoy.”

  “Hmm. Probably Militech, then; it’s their property, after all.”

  “Been playin’ around town askin’ bout the convoy as if her life depended on findin’ it. The one lead she’s got’s zip-tied in her trunk.”

  “Oh? Sounds like a classic double-cross, then. If the one in her trunk’s also Militech, that means he probably crashed the party, aimed to sell it on the black market and used Maelstrom as a tool. Got nothing from him or about him, but she’s keeping him as insurance just in case. At any rate, she needs to find the stolen gear before her bosses get wind of it and she ends up with a pair of concrete shoes.”

  “Well Miss V, that is some impressive deduction,” he complimented, “Naturally, use that intel as you please. Preferably well.”

  “I plan on it. Do you have any way of contacting her?”

  “You read my mind,” he nodded, “Sendin’ you her deets now.”

  “And if I have to purchase the thing again?”

  “Then I’ll reimburse you whatever it cost after the fact.”

  “What, how? You want me to send you a receipt?”

  “V, trust is everything in this business. You been level with me, so I got no reason to expect anythin’ less.”

  “Hm…” I pondered, “Right. Got it. Pull over at your convenience and I’ll get to work.”

  “Mm, well that’s just music to my ears,” Dex tapped Oleg’s seat to indicate him to pull over, “I’ll set up the meet with Parker at Lizzie’s Bar. Flathead, though, that’s gonna be all you.”

  “Flathead first, then. That’s on a timer.”

  “Sure thing,” he glanced out the window before turning back around to face me, “One more thing, Miss V.”

  “Hm?”

  “Give ol’ Jackie my warmest.”

  “Very well,” I nodded and exited the car, finding myself in the middle of the Kabuki market square. Quite the drive.

  I immediately called Jackie as soon as I closed the door. “So, how was he?” Jackie immediately said before I could get a word out, “Quiet life or blaze of glory, am I right?”

  “What? No… wait, what speech did he even give you – Fine, know what, nevermind. Anyway, I got the impression that he was sizing me up. Asked me if I was a samurai without asking me if I was a samurai, if you catch my drift.”

  “Hm. So what’d he want?”

  “It’s complicated, but the gist of it is that we’ve got a hell of a job ahead of us. There’s this Militech combat bot…” I ran through the details of both jobs – Evelyn and the Flathead, clarifying that our role in all this was the safe retrieval of this tech from none other than Maelstrom, and the complication of the corpo agent on the case.

  “Hey now, got plenty of experience with corpos and Maelstrom, don’t we?”

  “Mm, also something about a hostile takeover? Royce and Brick?”

  “Ah, heard about that. Guy’s fuckin’ whacked on chrome. Prolly won’t be too happy with some of our previous work against his crew,” he frowned, “Here, le’s talk about it over some breakfast tomorrow, yeah?”

  “Sure thing. This one’s gotta be soon though.”

  “Ey, we can do soon,” he reassured me.

  As I walked back to the car, something struck me as odd. Sure, Dex seemed to be on the level, but he barely gave me any details concerning the actual task at hand. What would we be doing…? Sure, we're stealing this drone. A shootout will likely be involved, I have no doubt. But what's the story behind the biochip? I mean, if the guy just wanted a piece of prototype tech, well… there it is. Just take the Flathead and be done with it. Part of me worried that this was all some sort of elaborate scam. Something that was too good to be true, at the very least. For one, whenever anyone talks about life-changing money, nothing is ever simple. Especially not in this town. I'm assuming that what he had in mind would pull us seven figures per head, given how much Jackie played it up. But I withheld reservations that any item, much less a biochip, can bring in that kind of haul. Or, at least, with any measure of "simplicity."

  Whatever this thing was, it needed two definite attributes: a buyer willing to pay that kind of money, and novelty. There's no point in stealing this prototype if we can't just substitute it for something else, like a Flathead. Hell, I could turn around and sell that fucker to Arasaka for a good chunk of money if I wanted. Which raises the question of who exactly the buyer is. Arasaka has the deepest pockets in-town. The obvious alternative is Militech; as former counterintel, I knew damn well how hard they've been trying to get a hold of Arasaka's proprietary tech for years. I think it's probably just Occam's Razor, especially with this Militech agent I'm supposed to meet.

  Well, at the end of the day, I'm just happy for Jackie. He's busted his ass for a decent opportunity like this - if, indeed, it turns out to be a decent opportunity, of course. But enough about that. Time for a night drive… Let's see if those advertisements are real or not…