“Beep beep beep…”
The cold notification tone rang out in his mind. The man sitting in a VIP box in the lawless district, watching a program that didn’t interest him, slightly adjusted his posture before connecting to the comms through his consciousness.
“What is it?”
“We seem to have been noticed.” The moment the voice on the other end spoke, the man felt a slight twinge in his heart. But before he could speak, the other side continued:
“Carlos’s instincts are sharp. I’m certain he hasn’t discovered us, but he has confined Theodore to quarters. And judging from his current pattern of action, he should be trying to restrict my operational scope through open play, thereby forcing me to reveal a flaw. This is a classic wastelander tactic.”
“Confined Theodore to quarters? And came out alone…” A hint of joy welled up in the man’s heart. “It looks like this guy truly has something to hide. If he wants to play, play along with him. Try your best not to make direct contact—stringing him along is best.”
“A bit difficult. Those cybernetic eyes he’s equipped with aren’t simple. If the goal was assassination, that’d be fine, but for a drawn-out delay…”
The voice on the other end carried some difficulty. The man didn’t reproach him as he would an ordinary subordinate, but responded calmly:
“I’ll send Falcon Squad to assist you.”
“Then there’s no problem, but make it quick. My current equipment isn’t suited for a drawn-out delay. Have Falcon bring Type-C gear.”
“Type-C? Understood.” The man’s gaze rested on the performance on stage. As though seeing a climactic moment, he smiled, disconnecting the comms while thinking to himself:
“It seems this Carlos really isn’t simple. Even if we capture him, we’d likely get nothing out of him, and it would instead easily trigger premature conflict with that individual.”
Thinking this, the man decisively abandoned the idea of capturing Carlos alive.
If he could confirm the location of the ore vein, then no matter how unwilling that individual was, they would have to share with him. Otherwise, they would only lose more. But conversely, if he couldn’t find the place, even if he seized a batch of crystals, he couldn’t directly and brazenly say that that individual had discovered a hidden ore vein. Otherwise, he himself would be destined to gain nothing, and might even lose face within the circle.
From his position, wanting to advance further was no different than going from chess piece to chess player. And what was needed to accomplish this was power sufficient to overturn the chessboard.
Miu Ke crystals happened to be one of the two shortcuts to obtaining power.
Precisely because of this, this had never been a game measurable by money from the start, nor did any room for compromise exist. Apart from getting a cut of this ore vein, all other outcomes were failure.
And he believed that the individual behind Carlos must also harbor similar ambitions.
Neither side would easily flip the table. That was the only reason this game could continue.
“Next, I need to find a way to confirm Theodore’s lead.”
Although Theodore had personally sold crystals before, the man didn’t think he knew the specific location of the ore vein. After all, Carlos didn’t seem like the kind of fool who would leak a secret like that to his son.
In his estimation, at most Theodore knew the location of a raw ore warehouse or some similar place where it was easy to tamper with things. But such a place was obviously insufficient to extract enough profit.
“Theodore was able to get four crystals. That means this mine’s output isn’t low—at least the quantity of raw stones is high. Transport can’t be handled by Carlos alone. Then the transporters most likely don’t know what they’re moving, and even the miners are probably clones… Thinking about it this way, this transport channel is very likely hidden within the Haitie Society’s other businesses. In that case, it makes sense that Theodore accidentally discovered the secret in the cargo… Narcotics, or cyberware smuggling?”
Thinking this, the man had an idea and dialed a communication—
“Orders?”
A mechanical voice sounded from the other side. The man said directly:
“Have Falcon Squad bring Type-C equipment to rendezvous with Saker. Also, use different channels to issue commissions targeting the upper echelons and middle management of the Haitie Society. Keep them scattered. Don’t let anyone sense the commissions are coming from the top.”
“Received.”
…
The moment John entered the tavern, the original clamor instantly vanished. The looks that had sized him up as a newcomer were completely gone. But John seemed to pay no heed to what others thought, reaching out to slap the obviously augmented backside of a passing waiter, whistling as he sat down at the bar.
“Your pay.”
Before he could speak, Paul pulled out a chip card, placing it on the table together with a glass of spirits. His eyes studied him for a moment before he warned:
“The Haitie Society has placed a hit on you. You’ve earned quite a bit. How about taking a few days off?”
“Would you set me up?” John’s eyebrows rose, his words blunt. Setting traps for mercenaries via jobs wasn’t rare among fixers. It didn’t even require too many violations—just leaking some of the mission details he’d accepted, and the bounty issuer would naturally offer a good price. As for the mercenary sold at that good price, naturally they would face a thoroughly prepared ambush.
“I won’t. The profit you can bring me far exceeds that bit of bounty.” Paul didn’t play any emotional cards, directly using the most naked interest to state his position.
John immediately showed a smile upon hearing this:
“Then what’s the difference whether I rest or not? Or rather, the more profit I help you earn, the harder it is for you to sell me off, isn’t it?”
With that, he spun his glass and took a sip:
“Rather than that, how about a job?”
“Can’t tell if you’re really short on money or addicted to killing.” Paul let out a sigh, casually pulling out a rather high-end menu.
John glanced at it, his brows involuntarily furrowing:
“Hey, hey, even if I killed two small-time bosses of the Haitie Society, you don’t have to give me nothing but Haitie Society jobs, right? Others will think I have a grudge against the Haitie Society when they see this!”
“I’m not that bored. It’s just that you killed two small bosses in a row, which seems to have given some people the illusion that ‘a skilled killer with a grudge against the Haitie Society has appeared.’ The result is that these overlapping jobs have increased. Although none of them individually pay much, added together it’s not a small sum. They count as the highest-paying batch at the same difficulty level. Of course, if you want a change of pace, I have others too.”
Paul casually pulled out another menu, but John shook his head and said:
“Who doesn’t like more money? But you said overlapping?”
“Yeah. So if you put up fifty percent as a service fee, I can help you take the same-target commissions from the other fixers’ sides.”
Paul quoted a price that sounded a bit steep. John didn’t mind, nodding and saying:
“It’s basically free money anyway. Right, which of these has the most overlapping bounties on their head?”
“The most?” Paul flipped two pages of the menu, pointing at an avatar of a man with a metal mask embedded in his face:
“Disregarding strength, this one is the highest. But he’s an officer of the Haitie Society—quite a bit stronger than those small bosses from before.”
“Well, all the better! I was even complaining those small bosses were too weak—killing them gave me no sense of accomplishment at all!”