After fending off the Animals attack, cleaning up the nearby area of corpses and debris, and replacing the destroyed equipment, Mark goes to the nearby shop where he can convert the extra guns, equipment, armor, and other items held by the Animals, for extra cash. The final balance of this incursion by the Animals, minus service fees, was over five thousand Eurodollars, eddies.
“I can pay rent and buy ingredients for the welcoming party. Looks like today was more productive than I thought. The real problem will be maintaining this consistency. Any ideas Solvy?”
Solvernia doesn’t answer, as she isn’t an expert in economics, as her expertise leans more on field operations, naval tactics, and home defense.
“Maybe I should follow the path of ‘John Starsector?’”
Solvernia silently agrees, as the Starfarer could fund a war with their personal funds when the situation calls for it.
“Whatever, that’s Future Me problem. Now Solvy, the real question is, what I should make for dinner?” Mark preempts his friend first suggestion. “Of course there will be Choco lava cake. I’m not a barbarian.”
In the end, Solvernia silently approves of Mark’s proposed menu.
…
*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*
“What?” A teenage boy answers the door, surprising Mark for a moment, however, Mark quickly remembers who the boy is.
“Are you Gloria’ son? My name is Mark Henderson and I’m your new neighbor. I invited your family to a little welcoming feast before. If you’re all free, you can come and have lunch at my apartment.”
The boy looks suspiciously at Mark, before he turns back to his home.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
¡Mamá, el vecino quiere hablar contigo!
After a few minutes, Gloria, David, and Mark are sitting on the dining room of Mark’s apartment. “I love what you did with the place. How did you manage to make it look so nice?”
“Oh, just some clever use of furniture and wall screens to split the large empty space into several smaller, cozier rooms.” Mark answers with pride in his work. After cleaning the apartment using powerful chemicals and a handcrafted power washer, Mark put several pieces of furniture using the vegetable fibers he compressed into “wood.”
“You’re into Feng Shui or something? The gonks at Arasaka says that’s just pointless superstition.” David asks, pointing to some choice pieces of furniture, such as an Ba Gua Mirror hanging on the wall.
Gloria quickly admonishes her kid. “David, be nice!”
“Don’t worry, I’m not offended, and I don’t think David tried to offend me either. It’s just the kind of hypocrisy I would expect from Arasaka. Tell me David, did you ever heard about the principles of Fusui?” David slowly nods. “They’re literally the same thing, but flavored to the traditions of Japan. Only God knows how much things got worse since the early twenty-first century.”
“Ah, sorry hijo, I spoke too soon.”
“It’s okay, mom.”
Mark smiles at the interaction before going to the oven and picking up the main dish: a tray of roasted chicken baked together with potatoes and other root vegetables. Mark also brings other dishes, such as fresh rice, baked black beans, Pico de Gallo, and a green salad.
The two Night City natives look at the spread of food with wide eyes, with David tentatively poking the chicken with his fork. “Is this real meat? It must have cost a fortune!”
“Sadly, it isn’t. It’s just a higher end SCOP product made to look like real food, though it is good enough to work as an ingredient for middle class clients. I got lucky and managed to find a ‘Food Dealer’ earlier, and if I pay extra I can even get my find real food.”
The two look at Mark strangely for admitting so openly to his ties to the Food Black Market of Night City.
“Look, not even a day after I arrived in this city I realized that people end up indulging in some manner to escape the harsh reality of the city. Drugs, alcohol, BD, XBD, name it and someone is into it.” Mark smiles at the time, leaning back on his chair. “I like cooking, so I decided to indulge by eating tasty food despite this city trying their best to treat me like a dog. Besides, food taste better when sharing with others. So why don’t we eat before the food turns cold.”
David plate is already the size of a small hill as he answers. “You don’t have to ask twice.”
With the tension broken, the apartment is filled with the clicking of utensils and laughter, as if in defiance of Night City darkness.