Took around two days to prep for the call. Now Lucy and I were on-site.
An abandoned trailer in the middle of fucking nowhere. Black boxes and red lights from the equipment dimly lit the place. A crossroad of dusty roads nearby. The blazing sun slowly sinking behind the grim desert horizon. Rusted wind turbines look like grave markers for giants.
It felt like we were about to summon the Devil. And that wasn't far off.
"There's still time to back out," Lucy reminded me, sitting on a faded plastic crate.
"I'm ready."
"We're just wasting time and nerves, V. You know we can't make a deal with them."
"I just… want to make sure," I sighed, pacing along the trailer, hearing the rusty metal floor creak. "If I have to kill her, it's gonna be tough. Really dangerous. I don't want to jump into this unless I know there's no other way."
"There is another way, V, but this city's got a damn death grip on you." She lit a cigarette, bitterness in her expression. "You're not fighting for your life."
"Maybe."
I couldn't tell her everything. Or maybe I just didn't want to. The skeletons in my closet were gripping the doors tight.
"But we can beat this," I assured her. "We can break free. Tear through this web. Make it out. Let's show this city what we can do."
I moved closer, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"You're a total psycho. I was right," she said, softening a bit as she activated the equipment remotely. "Get it over with, V. I don't want to hang out here all night."
I picked up the headset, testing the mic. Everything worked fine. We tried to use as little network tech as possible. Old protocols, like Uncle Jorge taught us. No video feed. Just voice, recorded on a couple of chips. The trailer we're working from would be ashes in a couple of hours. We'd bought a cheap bomb and a ton of fuel just for this. We're all set for a chat with the black-and-red corporate demon. Time to start. One button press, and the signal went out.
"Good… afternoon," a familiar male voice answered. "You're using our emergency contact protocol, although it's a month out of date. Who am I speaking to?"
Frank Nostra. Been a while. Unfortunately, I couldn't contact Abernathy directly, but reaching Frank was doable.
"It's V. Remember me? I need to talk to Abernathy. Forward this call to her."
"V?! Well… Glad you're still alive, but setting up a meeting with the director's not easy, even for employees. You were let go. You'll have to accept that. Submit a request through Form Five and—"
"She's put sixty thousand on my head. That's worth a conversation, Frank. Tell her. If she refuses, fine. But if you don't pass it on, she'll find out anyway. And believe me, Susan won't be happy with you."
Abernathy liked keeping important things under her control. Not telling her about my call would be a big mistake.
"Sixty grand? Damn… Sounds like you're in deep, V."
"Spare me the sympathy, Frank. Patch me through to Abernathy."
"I've sent the request, but, as you know… You're no longer with us, and, well, your departure wasn't exactly smooth."
"Yeah. Not smooth. And they didn't manage to quietly get rid of me either."
"I'd guess you're angry, but Jenkins was really at fault. He crossed a line, and you didn't realize it in time. You let personal loyalty get in the way of corporate values."
"Tell him to go fuck himself, V," Lucy typed on the screen. "This suit makes me sick."
I was about to tell Frank to take a long walk off a short pier, but his voice faded, replaced by hers. Abernathy spoke to me.
"Look who crawled out from under a rock. Got something to say, Price?"
"Yeah. Just a few things. First, thanks for the sixty-thousand bounty. I guess that means you recognize my professional skills. Second, I'd like to dispute that number, or even get rid of it entirely."
"You have a proposal? Or are you here to whine and beg?"
"Someone's gunning for you too. I know exactly who. They tried to bring me in on it, but I turned them down. I'll hand over the details if you call off the hunt."
"Concerned about my well-being? Leave that to Trauma Team and Security."
"I'm just showing that I've had enough of this shit. I'm no interest or threat to your counterintel. I just want out of the game."
"You want out of the game? Put a gun to your head and pull the trigger. Save us both some time and money. Stop with the naive bullshit, Price. This isn't the kind of game you can just walk away from."
"Why? Employees get fired and laid off all the time. Not everyone gets a bounty on their head. Jenkins is dead. Your little game with him is over. Why go after a pawn that's already been taken off the board?"
"Maybe you're playing dumb on purpose, Price," the director sneered. "Trying to look dumber than you really are. Most ex-employees are just pathetic, crushed failures. Useless assets. We let them go because they pose no threat. Now listen carefully. What I'm about to say is almost a compliment. You're a problem, Vincent. We can't just let you go and hope you quietly drop dead in a ditch."
Oh, great. A compliment, and a death sentence all wrapped into one. Abernathy kept going:
"The specific details of your 'termination' weren't my plan, of course, but I read the reports from your handler. Implant shutdown, a recruited bodyguard, hired mercs. It was solid. A plan with plenty of buffer built in. By our calculations, you were supposed to die. The fact you didn't suggests we didn't have the full picture. Either you planned your escape for a while, or someone helped you. Those aren't mutually exclusive. Once you're out of control, you'll 'go feral' and become a merc, or jump straight into the arms of our competitors. You can swear up and down you want out of the game, but I don't buy it. No one will."
Damn...
In the future I remember, Arasaka let V go, assuming he wasn't that much of a threat. But I've "raised my profile" with my own hands. Successfully completed missions, the mess at the factory, botched assassinations, attention from Security. Sometimes being too good is a curse.
Plus, I've been stirring things up on my own with the gangs. No one's gonna believe I'll just quietly drink myself to death or convert to Buddhism. Either I'll switch sides or become a wildcard, and eventually, enemies will use me.
"So you want the bounty lifted?" Abernathy asked, clearly rhetorical. "I'll give you one last chance."
"And?"
"Take out a target in Dogtown for us, then stay put there. Join an organization we point you to."
"And I'll only find out who the target and organization are if I agree, right?"
"Don't ask stupid questions, Price. Today, I'll give you the coordinates. Come alone."
"Come alone?" I laughed. "Maybe I should break my own legs, shove a soldering iron up my ass, and blow my brains out too, just to make it easier for your goons. I want out of the game, not a new round as some corporate hitman."
"You're getting cocky, Vincent. Spending time with trash has made you think you're some kind of strategic genius, capable of stringing together two or three conclusions. You worked for our company, Price," Abernathy lectured. "You know we've handled tougher targets."
"I did. I know. I also know we screwed up on far easier ones. I could disappear. I could vanish. The company would just waste money."
"And yet you haven't disappeared, and here you are calling me. Something's holding you here, Vincent. Something or someone. Found yourself some lowlife friends and maybe a hooker? Am I right? Professional decline is so predictable."
Stay calm. I felt a cold fury flood my mind. Keep cool. It's just bait. Abernathy always tries to throw you off balance. Her tactics may lack originality, but they're sharp as hell.
"So I take it you're not grabbing that second last chance?" Abernathy paused for a moment.
I kept quiet.
"Some people just never learn. Let's wrap this up. I'm supposed to stall while netrunners track you down, but I know you've got solid defenses up, and I don't feel like chatting for an hour. My time's valuable. You heard my terms. Not interested? Fine, I'll slap a target the size of Orbital Air's spaceport on your slippery ass. We won't even have to kill you, you hear, Price? We'll just raise the bounty. This city will chew you up and spit you out."
"It'll choke. And you'll choke too. Go choke on my dick, Susan."
My answer was her harsh laughter, then silence.
"Guess that's a no-deal," I sighed.
"Let's get out of here, spy boy," Lucy muttered darkly. "We just blew two days and a couple thousand eddies for a chance to hear your old boss insult you. Worth it?"
I started packing up the equipment we weren't planning on torching, double-checking the bomb. Everything was ready.
"Had to make sure," I replied.
"That the Arasaka witch in the big chair is still a witch?"
"That we'll have to take her out."
I activated the incendiary bomb meant to erase all traces of our time in the trailer. A thick puddle of fuel began spreading across the floor. We hurried to the door, where a stolen car waited for us in the distance. Snagged it from the edge of town, after scrubbing the camera records.
Taking out Abernathy… Would be nice to find someone willing to pay us for the hit.
"She wanted me to whack someone in Dogtown…" I muttered thoughtfully. "What if she wasn't bluffing? Got a few ideas about it."
"V? You're not seriously gonna consider doing something for that bitch, are you?"
"Of course not. She'll kill me the second I'm no longer useful—or throw me into some suicide mission even sooner."
We got into the car, and the trailer burst into flames, igniting from the inside. Fire shot out of the windows and rusted gaps.
One thought spun in my head, refusing to fully take shape.
What's next? Where can I find a buyer? Try getting in touch with Fujioka's bosses? Too risky. Better stay clear of Arasaka for now. Especially since they might lay low after Fujioka vanished.
Dogtown…
I hit the gas, kicking up clouds of dust from the dirt road.
'Take out a target in Dogtown and stay there. Join an organization we'll tell you about.'
The car sped away from the column of smoke rising from the burning trailer. For some reason, a trip with Nash came to mind. What was it he was rambling about in his semi-daze?
'Fucking Hungarian bastard, fucking dogs!'
What did he mean by that? Somehow my instincts were linking this phrase with recent events.
Right. Organization and dogs? Barghest.
A chain of memories about the future spun up in my head again. Abernathy plans to take Dogtown under indirect control. This would be a huge victory for Arasaka. As long as Kurt Hansen is alive, it's impossible, but Abernathy has already recruited one of the Barghest leader's closest allies. Once the colonel kicks the bucket, Dogtown will fall at Susan's feet.
However, Abernathy's puppet has a competitor. Someone else who could claim Hansen's crown after his death. A certain Jago Szabo. A Hungarian, Barghest's accountant, an ex-corp and smuggling specialist. Was it him Abernathy wanted me to take out?
Well, we have a potential client for Abernathy's hit that isn't tied to Arasaka. Taking her out for free, just for my own survival... it's a tough pill to swallow. Given Abernathy's position and nature, there should be plenty of buyers for her head. Just need to find the right one.
"You ever been to Dogtown?"
"No. If you want to disappear, there are better places than that hellhole."
"No. I'm planning to take out Susan and want to find a client outside of Arasaka. I've got a suspicion about who she's targeting in Dogtown."
"You think her death will help? Free you? I thought corporations were like a hydra. Cut off one head, another grows."
"Yeah, but who's to say the next heads will be as cunning? Abernathy's a lone wolf. She mowed down all potential competition and runs her department with an iron fist."
An example of efficiency that could turn ugly. Abernathy clung to her chair, obliterating other contenders, so her death would hit the department hard.
"If she's taken out, counterintel will be left leaderless for a while. A lot of operations will stall. Including mine. Abernathy initiated it. I doubt she kept detailed documentation on it. She's too paranoid for that. Her reasons and plans are all in her head. Once that head rolls, the hit on Vincent Price won't matter to anyone."
"Smooth talker, Mr. Spy," the girl smirked. "But what do we city rats know about your brilliant plans?"
"Forget it. Abernathy blends professionalism and low-grade cannibalism into one package. Those qualities put her on the corporate throne, but they'll also be her downfall."
"Enough about her, V. Give your inner corpo a smack and talk like a human again."
"Alright. Let's have a drink. I'm already sick of all this corpo drama. I just want to get out and go back to plain heists."
The girl smirked at her reflection in the dusty glass. Outside, the evening badlands stretched out, a vision of post-apocalypse. The old world, after all, was truly dead. A world of non-synthetic meat, humans without implants, and simple, naive dreams. Poisoned by industrial emissions, slow-cooked by ozone holes, pounded into dust by the atomic bombs of corporate wars. There was no way back.
After the badlands, we ditched the stolen car and spent some time in a small bar in Heywood.
We split the profits from gutting Fujioka's accounts. My share was sixty-three grand. Another two and a half for the gems and jewelry. Sadly, the haul wasn't as fat as after the Jorge hit.
"Little China or The Glen?" Lucy asked, showing me photos of apartments.
Yeah. Little China meant Megabuilding Ten, but not that one-bedroom that was etched into my future memories. This one had more space. Four rooms, a roomy kitchen, a glassed-in veranda balcony. Not a penthouse, but pretty decent.
"I like the Megabuilding more."
"Me too, but the Tyger Claws hang around the area, and you often see the NCPD there."
"Doesn't matter. My favorite clinic's nearby."
We ended up choosing that apartment. My share for the first three months of rent came to fifteen grand.
"Falco hasn't come back yet?" I asked.
"No. He's still caught up with your Rainfield. I messaged him yesterday. He said he's not even in the city."
"Whoa. Hope everything's alright."
Lucy shrugged.
"Alright. But if we're heading to Dogtown, I want my own driver and a good ride."
"Hire that nomad. She messaged me a few days ago, practically swearing eternal friendship for saving her."
An idea. Looks like Panam's getting a job sooner than she expected. I'm willing to overpay for safety. Dogtown's a hole worse than the shittiest parts of Northside. Meaner gangs, psycho mobs everywhere, and a gang of war criminals running the show, slowly drinking away their last scraps of military discipline and turning into a horde of raiders.
We need to secure a secret meeting with one of the big shots of that snake pit, and then just convince him to pay us a ton of eddies. Is it a good plan? At least it's ambitious. If Jago already knows about his rival's Arasaka ties, it'll be easier. Plus, we'll give him a recording of the convo with Susan. She doesn't mention names or organizations, but the connections are clear.
"So, Dogtown? When do we hit that pit?" Lucy asked.
"Soon. But first... Let's thin out some of Linda's hired killers. Becca wanted to shoot? No problem. Time to hunt the hunters."