"I love The Afterlife."
"Jack, this isn't your first ti here. Is it really that exciting?"
"You don't get it, Carl. Every ti we co here, it's a new life. Why else would it be called The Afterlife?"
At the entrance of The Afterlife, the bouncer, Emrich Bronson, watched as Carl's team approached. He didn't say a word, simply stepping aside to let them through.
"Good evening, Emrich."
When Carl saw Emrich, he stopped talking with Jack and greeted the bouncer with genuine enthusiasm.
"Good evening, KK."
Emrich nodded, then reached out to push open the bar's door. Imdiately, the familiar green lighting spilled out, casting a ghostly glow over the three of them.
"Still got that eerie afterlife vibe."
Shaking his head, Carl walked into the bar, taking a seat at the counter alongside Oliver and Jack.
The Afterlife's bartender, Claire, noticed the three of them and approached with a friendly smile.
"What can I get you guys tonight?"
"Just three sodas. No booze today."
Jack answered, and Claire, upon hearing that they weren't drinking, squinted slightly before giving them a knowing smile.
"Looking for work?"
"Can't be hamred while waiting for a gig."
"Want to spread the word? With your reputation, there's no shortage of people who'd love to hire you but just don't have a way to reach you. I'd bet soone will co up to you before long. I'll get your sodas ready. Ice?"
"Yeah, do us a favor and let them know we're open for business. Three sodas, on ice."
"Got it, give a sec."
With that, Claire turned away to prepare their drinks.
"Wanna order sothing to eat? Just drinking water feels kind of bland."
Jack turned to Carl, only to be t with a dramatic eye roll.
"Yeah, right. I already checked last ti—this place doesn't have anything decent to eat. Just vending machine junk. If I have to eat that crap, I'd rather starve."
"Man, you're picky as ever. If you ran a All-Foods factory, I bet I'd never have to worry about finding so weird-ass surprise in my al."
"Give a break. Even if I were in charge of All-Foods, I still wouldn't eat their garbage."
As Carl's team continued their casual banter, ti passed quickly. Claire ca and went, bringing them their sodas. By the ti Oliver was starting to feel the need to hit the restroom, soone approached them.
The guy, from his attire, looked like just another corporate suit. He didn't waste ti on small talk—he simply walked over, said a single sentence, and placed a small note in front of them.
"This is the contact number of a gentleman who reserved a job with you in advance."
After delivering the ssage, the corporate man left without another word.
Carl looked at the note, considering the aning behind his words.
"Reserved a job in advance?"
Who would do sothing like that?
As he was thinking, an image suddenly flashed through his mind.
A middle-aged man with cybernetic eyes glowing bright blue.
"Once you finish this mission, I'll contact you imdiately."
That mysterious, blue-eyed man who had approached Carl and his team at the Wild Wolf Bar—imdiately knowing they were working on a Militech job investigating the Adamant Titan—left a lasting impression on Carl.
Back then, he had wondered how the man planned to contact them, considering they hadn't exchanged numbers. But now, it seed like tracking them down was no challenge for him at all.
Jack also recalled the enigmatic, oddly-spoken middle-aged man with glowing blue cyber-eyes. He glanced at the note on the table, then looked at Carl.
"So… what do we do about this job?"
"We don't have anything lined up right now, so we might as well check it out first. If it seems off and there's no down paynt, we can always turn it down. That guy clearly has so kind of inside intel, but sketchy business dealings aren't exactly reassuring."
Saying this, Carl picked up the note and dialed the number written on it.
Beep.
Almost instantly, the call connected, as if the person on the other end had been expecting Carl's call at that exact mont.
"Hello? Are you the guy from before?"
"If you're referring to the middle-aged man with glowing blue cyber-eyes who approached you at the Wild Wolf Bar, then yes, that's ."
Yeah, he still had that odd way of talking—like he was making an objective observation rather than holding a normal conversation.
"So, you figured out we're free now and want to discuss that long-term job you ntioned?"
"That's correct. However, I assu your level of trust in isn't yet sufficient. So before we proceed with that, I'd like to establish a working relationship through a smaller assignnt. A preliminary collaboration to build a solid foundation of trust."
"You're sounding a lot like a fixer. What should we call you? And what's this job about?"
Hopefully, he's not another cheapskate like Faraday.
As Carl was considering this, a file transfer notification popped up—along with a paynt.
"You may refer to as you see fit. The file has been transmitted, along with the down paynt. If you're willing to take on this job to establish trust, you may collect the paynt after reviewing the details."
Weirdly formal, but pretty generous.
Seeing a six-thousand-eddies down paynt, Carl was curious about what kind of job this guy was offering.
"Can I share the file with my teammates?"
"Strong bonds within a team are the first step toward a successful mission."
I guess that's a yes?
After giving Oliver and Jack a heads-up, Carl forwarded the file to them while opening it himself.
Almost imdiately, a few key phrases caught his attention.
Militech. Engineer Thomas Stein. Nomads. Kidnapping.
A Militech engineer nad Thomas Stein had been traveling with a transport convoy when they were ambushed by a group of nomads called the Night Stalkers in the Badlands. The entire convoy was wiped out—except for Stein, who was taken hostage. His biomonitor signal had vanished, and the blue-eyed man wanted Carl's team to track down the nomads and rescue him.
A Militech employee?
Does that an this blue-eyed man is from Militech?
That would explain how he knew about the Adamant Titan job and why he approached them so soon after they completed it. If he was an insider, he'd naturally have access to that kind of information.
But… sothing felt off.
Back at the Wild Wolf Bar, when Carl spoke with him, his attitude toward both Arasaka and Militech was one of detached indifference—like he had no allegiance to either side, as if their secrets were all open books to him. His tone had that eerie neutrality, almost like he was observing them from above.
Would soone like that really be Militech?
It didn't make sense.
Corporate affairs were always a pain to deal with.
But… they did have their perks.
Carl's gaze locked onto the paynt amount listed in the mission details.
Corporate-funded jobs were always generous.
One, ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand…
One hundred and fifty thousand eddies.
That was about the sa payout as when they took down forr lieutenant Jas Norris.
.
.
.
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