The Premium Taksi was nicer.
Arthur comfortably reclined against the soft black seats. Still faux-leather but noticeably higher quality. The air conditioning was smoother, colder. The TV screens a higher resolution. The noise cancelling speakers negating the outside hum.
Then it was all over.
"You've arrived at your destination, sir. Pleasure, as always."
The door clicked open on its own and Arthur shifted out.
His right ear was muffled, but the pumping music was loud as ever. He trodded down the steps and met the bouncer.
This time, there was no pat down. He moved aside and opened the door.
'Still a prick,' Arthur thought, and walked through.
The Night Club was even more populated compared to two hours ago. Denser, smellier, louder. He had to shuffle through a hurdle of dancing zombies before he could make it to Snake's door.
"Come in."
Arthur hadn't even knocked.
Like the first time, the room was filled with smoke. A Sivir Silver poked through Snake's index and middle finger, her reptilian eyes still cold as ever as it slithered across Arthur's figure.
But unlike the first time, it wasn't just her.
A tall Asian woman sat beside her, dressed in all black—a chic hoodie and baggy pants—her eyes closed, yet her eyelids faintly glimmered with blue streaks.
Korean, most likely. Heavy mascara, with black lipstick on her thin lips. Short hair tied to a small bun.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
She was a Ghostrunner. Geeky-types that practically lived in the Net, hijacking, usurping and breaking systems for gain or amusement.
Japanese, Korean and Vietnamese were usually the most dangerous types of Ghostrunners you could come across. They'd find a way to hack a rock if it meant accessing your data or hijacking your identity.
Upon Arthur's arrival, her eyes flickered open, which she blinked into focus.
"Welcome, welcome, Arthur," Snake's words pulled back his attention. She gave him a slight smile. "You've been through a rough day, mate. Have a seat."
The Korean woman scoffed.
Arthur sat down, and Snake extended the packet of Sivir Silver cigarettes to him. "You've earned one."
Arthur took her up on the offer and pulled the cigarette out with his lips. He lit it up using his own lighter.
It smoldered and Arthur breathed in, puffed out. Compared to the Red Jacks he usually smoked, the quality was far superior. He could feel his lungs warm up with authentic tobacco. He savoured the taste, knowing he won't have another for a long time. Maybe never.
"Jerry seemed real impressed," Snake said. "Said you killed two of the five Jack Boys that raided the shop. That true?"
Arthur nodded. "I got lucky. Jerry did most of the work."
"Ah! You're humble. Don't be. Especially not in this line of work." She puffed out a cloud, then gave him a stare. "How'd you feel?"
"Like chit."
She seemed amused. The Korean woman was clearly not.
Then, Snake frowned.
"They destroyed the Pereira."
She bit her lip in disappointment, eyes distant.
"Isn't Scarface here in danger?" the Korean woman said. "If they saw his face, that is."
Arthur looked at her. "I don't think they did."
"Your thinking is meaningless," said the Korean woman. She crossed her arms. "If even one of them were streaming through their optics, you'd be relatively easy to find. A scar on the nose, a torn or bandaged earlobe. You're pretty frucked if they did, my friend."
Arthur's eyes narrowed at her.
"What's with the stare?" said the Korean dangerously. Her eyes let off an eerie blue glow. "Wanna die, Kesekya?"
"Now, now."
Snake tone eased the tension. The Korean girl scoffed, losing the hue in her eyes. Arthur stopped looking at her.
"Jack's are gonna want blood," Snake said seriously. "Its unfortunate, but you weren't given a good hand to start the game."
Arthur stifled a laugh. He couldn't remember ever having a good hand.
"Let the heat cool off," Snake said advisingly. "I'll put something together and give you a call."
Arthur nodded.
"Let's move onto something nicer, eh? Your payment."
Snake paused, thought for a second, then nodded with pursed lips. She said with a decided tone:
"Three hundred. Sound fair?"
Arthur nodded. Three hundred was more than fair. He would've been happier with less long as he'd got paid.
The Korean woman scoffed. Under her breath, she said:
"Three hundred more than he's worth."
Her words didn't disturb him much.
Snake gave her a hard sideglance, then looked back to Arthur.
A moment later, the old chip in Arthur's brain pinged. He opened the Paywire application which the notification had come from: a blue logo with a P on it.
It opened up to a black and white interface, with a small frame beneath showcasing a new message.
>Payment sent from Snake Eyes.
Amount: ¢300.
Accept?
The price of two souls.
He accepted, and his new balance read:
¢352.
"Right," Snake said, drumming her long nails on the table. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," Arthur said. "They put a hole in my gun."
The Korean girl said in distaste:
"So buy a new one with the money you got, moron."
Arthur frowned.
Snake gave him a light smile and opened up a drawer and pulled out a piece.
A heavy-duty Liebherr pistol which she handed Arthur along with two mags.
"Careful. It's already loaded."
Arthur inspected the pistol that felt like it weighed 3 kilos. Unmodified, it came in blocky dimensions and a narrow grip.
He holstered the pistol. "Thank you."
"I'll give you the Contact of a Carver friend of mine." Snake closed the drawer. "Go pay him a visit. His cyberware installations aren't cheap, but he's trained and worth the price."
Arthur gave a thankful nod and left.
***
Jack Dolton had been watching the raid with keen, hard eyes. His hands were steepled over one another. His two younger brothers stood to his sides, heads lowered, faces dark.
Putting both hands on his face, warm tears dripped down Jack's pronounced cheekbones, dripping over his beard.
His way of weeping was strange.
His expression didn't change at all, but his brothers knew he was mourning.
He replayed the footage over and over again, watching through different eyes each time before the blurry red-smeared feed had cut off.
Jack had erred.
Jerry had been prepared. Perhaps he should've let the heat from the gun range robbery cool off before making a move.
Replay, stop, reverse, zoom in, zoom out. Over and over, Jack Dolton replayed the footage.
Jerry, his daughter, and a tall man with a scar bisecting his nose.
Hard to make out his features with the glasses on and the constant blur.
"I'll find Jerry, Jack," the brother to his left said with ill-concealed hatred. "I swear to God, I will."
Jack paused, wiped away his tears.
He took a deep sigh and said with a deep voice and no particular tone:
"No. Not Jerry."
Jack replayed the footage, stopped just as the tall man put two bullets in his cousin's chest.
He stared at the man's image with menace.
"Find me the scarface."