In the afternoon, the Dusk Bar exuded a languid atmosphere. Compared with the common tavern feel of the Yellow Flag Bar, this place was clearly larger and more luxurious. Given the prices here, anyone who could afford to drink more or less had a side business.
The owner, Valedi, still wore the same leisurely air he had maintained for over a decade, letting the bartender beside him shake the cocktail shaker into a blur while he himself unhurriedly wiped glasses.
Only when a customer came up to the counter would he press the mute button and exchange a few words.
Perhaps ten years ago, when he had first entered this line of work, he would still have bothered to cover things up. But now, when most of the customers were essentially “temporary workers,” there was no need to go to all that trouble.
Seeing that it was already the golden hour for tavern business, customers pushed the door open one after another. Amid the back-and-forth creak of the faux-wooden door, they came to the bar counter. These hard men, who on ordinary days had no idea what rules were, now obediently lined up and kept enough distance for the soundproofing system to take effect, avoiding hearing anything they should not.
As for those who had finished their exchanges and received their payment, they would return to their fearless, devil-may-care selves, order a few drinks, and, carrying the smell of gunpowder or blood, find two or three customers—strangers or acquaintances—take out a few decks of cards, and use this ancient game passed down for hundreds, even thousands of years to begin a shallow round of socializing.
“Brother, you don’t look too good. Run into trouble?”
A lone customer who had just received his pay was about to find a seat when a glass of hard liquor was already offered in front of him. Looking at the burly man before him, whose face was scarred and who wore a filthy tactical vest, the customer immediately understood what the other party meant. He took the glass with an open, easy manner and sat down beside him. Tasks that had not been completed through Valedi had to be kept confidential, but if the job was already done and he was not afraid of trouble coming for him, then he could talk as much as he liked.
In truth, this tavern had never lacked people who drank while using mission details as conversation fodder.
It was not purely for the fun of listening. Rather, in these idle chats about missions that inevitably involved all sorts of people from every walk of life, there were always hidden details that others might not easily notice. If one could grasp the key point, it might well fetch a good price.
“If you want to ask something, just say it.”
“Heh, then I won’t stand on ceremony.” A sly look flashed through the burly man’s eyes as he smiled and said,
“I remember you went over to the Ring Line yesterday. You just got back, right? What exactly is going on over there?”
“Heh!” Hearing this, the lone customer let out a light scoff, downed the liquor the burly man had handed him in one gulp, then swept his gaze over the drinkers around them who had pricked up their ears. Pretending to be relaxed, he said,
“It’s nothing too serious. That bastard Poison Scorpion is gone, that’s all. He didn’t even see the enemy’s face before his head blew up. And it was a crossbow bolt!”
“A crossbow bolt? Bullshit! My brother’s brother-in-law hangs around the outskirts of the Skeleton Iron Society. He said that attack was so fast even Poison Scorpion’s three-star cybernetic eye couldn’t react. It had to be at least Mach three. What family’s crossbow bolt can reach that speed?”
A thin man at the neighboring table immediately retorted. The lone customer instantly glared at him and said,
“What the hell do you know! I was right near Ring Line Plaza at the time. After I heard the commotion, I even went over to take a look. If the Skeleton Iron Society hadn’t detained me for questioning, I would’ve been back this morning!”
At those words, even the customers who had merely been eavesdropping could not help but gather closer. The burly man who had offered the drink at the start smiled even more and immediately said,
“Server, get this brother a glass of Fire Tongue!”
“Much obliged, brother.” The lone customer accepted the house specialty and took another fierce gulp before saying,
“You people don’t know this, but that crossbow bolt was obviously made of Dam alloy at a glance. You know the alloy floor in Ring Line Plaza, right? It was buried this deep at least!”
The customer waved his arm and indicated an exaggerated length. Although he had guessed that this man had probably heard rumors and had deliberately waited here for his information, this was intel that would spread before long anyway. If it could be exchanged for a few drinks, he was more than willing.
“What are you bragging for? With the Skeleton Iron Society’s usual way of doing things, they’d let you go that quickly? You must have only glanced from far away and then turned around and ran. I bet you circled around a few hundred times and only dared come back after making sure no one was really chasing you, right?”
A familiar customer nearby spoke up in mockery. The lone customer’s face immediately flushed red.
“What do you know? These eyes of mine are Da Yan goods. One glance is enough to capture an image! Capture, you understand? I could even see the opening on that arrow shaft clearly!”
“Opening?” As if he had not expected there to be an unexpected gain, the burly man gritted his teeth and said,
“Server, bring this man a serving of ‘fried chicken’!”
“Got it!” The server moved quickly. Before long, a plate of meat chunks fried to a golden color, paired with mashed potatoes, was brought over.
Of course, this was not real fried chicken, nor were they real potatoes. But even if they were merely “cheap” synthetic ingredients, they were not something people from the blocks could often eat—even though they were already among the relatively well-off people in the blocks.
The lone customer did not stand on ceremony either. He grabbed a piece of “fried chicken” and took a big bite. The scent of meat juice and grease was somewhat cheap, but it still provoked a wave of swallowing around him. Since he had eaten, however, he naturally had to give up something substantial. He washed it down with a mouthful of liquor, then directly activated the projection function of his cybernetic eye.
“See that? This arrow shaft, this ground! And this! This card—look at its position and angle. It definitely popped out of that arrow shaft!”
As the customer spoke, he adjusted the projection, enlarging and shifting the chaotic plaza until it finally focused on a card that had already become somewhat blurry from pixel loss.
“The look of this card… why does it sound a bit familiar? I feel like I’ve heard of it somewhere…”
Suddenly, one customer let out a cry of surprise, and everyone’s gazes immediately focused over. But before anyone could ask, several other customers nodded.
“It is a little familiar… Right, that little punk over on the peninsula was also shot dead by an arrow, wasn’t he? I heard what was left behind was a Devil Joker.”
At those key words, memories were awakened one after another. Someone immediately said,
“Right, I remember now! It seemed to be a newcomer who debuted through Paul. I think his name was… John…”
“John Joke? I know that one. He hasn’t been active for long, yet he already dares take business involving the Skeleton Iron Society?”
“More than that. Speaking of him, I saw him at Molai’s agency the day before yesterday. Looks like this guy has already started contacting other middlemen…”
As soon as these words came out, the scene fell briefly silent. They all made their living from this bowl of rice, so they naturally understood what it meant.
Mercenaries with poor ability often had only one middleman, because only then could they exchange “loyalty” for more jobs. Only those with outstanding ability and outrageous courage had the capital to reach out to more employers.
At this very moment, similar discussions were taking place in many different locations. Even in the Yellow Flag Bar, where the mission had been posted, there was no shortage of talk about John.
The blocks were vast, and there were many gangs. A minor leader might seem insignificant, but when that minor leader came from a behemoth like the Skeleton Iron Society, which had backing from the Tower District, and was also a die-hard supporter of its young master, then his death drew even more attention than the assassination of an ordinary gang leader.