Maine’s crew arrives at Afterlife first to wait for their current employer, also buying a set of synth fries after taking a liking to it upon recommendation of the Engineer. While the group waits, they review the data found in the hospital.
“Looks like they’re up to some heavy shit,” Maine comments on their private chat group, “there’s some extra info there that isn’t covered by the mission. We can safely sell it to an info broker, but what do you guys think?”
“We should give the first pick of the info to the Engineer; he might pay us well.” Dorio quickly points it out, “I don’t want to anger the guy who gave us a fat paycheck for a simple gig.”
“We’re not obligated to wait for his approval, though,” Pillar intrudes on the chat, “some of the info is completely unrelated to the connection between the Scavs and Biotechnica. Sure, someone can use it for leverage or to try and find blackmail, but the rest are at best hooks for different gigs.”
“It’s your call, boss,” Rebbeca gives her opinion while swatting her brother’s hand from her bowl, “I don’t see any problem with waiting or going ahead.”
The Solo leader ponders for a few seconds before addressing his Netrunner. “Sasha, separate some of the juicier info that looks time-sensitive and sells the rest to the afterlife info broker.” Maine takes a sip of his drink, sighing in contentment after a job well done, when he notices Sasha's demeanor. “Sasha?”
She looks back at Maine with a wink, showing the extra eddies everyone got from the successful sale.
“Alright, he should be coming here soon. We can order dinner while we wait.” Maine shakes his head at the last sentence, “I can’t believe the Engineer opened an entirely new menu on the afterlife,” Maine flashes the ‘Engineer’ Selection’ with fresh SCOP-based full dishes, “usually the Legends have a drink made in their honor.”
“It’s not every day that someone zeros an entire gang,” a new voice calls out to the group, and the crew all turn towards the newcomer.
“If it isn’t ‘Mr. Cool’ himself.” Maine acknowledges the Fixer's arrival. “Dex DeShawn, it’s an honor.”
The large man who approached the group is a famous fixer in Night City, considered one of the best with a good reputation for being dependable and providing lucrative gigs to Edgerunners. DeShawn has a distinctive appearance: a large forehead and long hair done in dreadlocks; chains, rings, and a watch made of gold that matches his gold-plated cyberarm; a pair of synth leather pants and jacket; and his iconic rose-tinted sunglasses. The flashy appearance of the fixer demands attention from those around him, and Dexter DeShawn knows how to leverage that.
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The man known as Mr. Cool takes a drag from his cigar, savoring the taste before casually taking a seat near Maine.
“I just found some juicy gossip from the bar and realized that I have the perfect gig to match it. Since you’re so well informed, I was thinking of offering the job to you first.”
At first, Maine is flattered that someone of Mr. Cool’s caliber is interested in their group, however, the ex-special forces don’t get where he is by being reckless, ‘That’s a good way to get yourself and your people killed.’
“I know it’s sudden,” DeShawn interjects before Maine can refuse the offer, “but it’s a simple gig. I can give you the detes free of charge if you are willing to listen.”
Maine looks around the table, with his crew having a mixed reaction. Pillar is almost jumping out of his seat with nervous energy, while Rebecca looks interested in Mr. Cool. Maine’s Output gives a disappointed look, while Sasha appears neutral to the idea.
“I can only promise to listen. We just came out of a job, and we want to keep our heat down for now.”
“Don’t worry, it’s a simple thing. I just need you to get to the Biotechnica building and pick up something from their head office. I was supposed to send my own trusted Netrunner, T-Bug, but she’s in recovery after installing some new Chrome.”
Dex takes a drag from his cigar, shaking his head for a moment, “I’m going to be real with you here. The truth is that there was a scheduling problem on my part,” the fixer reluctantly admits to his mistake, “another Netrunner was supposed to take the job, and I promised my client to give them the info as soon as possible, but the gonk got flatlined earlier today. We have everything prepared: the corpos schedule, the bribes, and even a jammer to help you do a clean and traceless job. Since I promised my client to finish this today, I’m willing to pay some Preem eddies for the gig. Thirty thousand as a base, with an extra ten for discretion.”
Maine takes the fixer words, thinking it over. “That’s a lot of money for a supposedly ‘simple gig.’”
“I’m paying for speed,” Dex clarifies, “it needs to be done today, so I can have the data sent to my client tomorrow morning. That’s why I’m offering a larger reward than usual.”
“I can do it,” Sasha says, surprising the crew with her initiative, “depending on the detes it should be easy. In-and-out, easy eddies.”
The Solo frowns, his gut saying something was amiss, but before he could think it over Dex rose up from his seat. “If you’re not interested, I will look for another crew or solo Netrunner. Time waits for no one, after all.”
DeShawn takes three steps before Maine calls him. “Wait. Alright, send us the detes and we will do the job.”
DeShawn waves his cyberarm, trailing smoke behind him. The intel of the job appears on the group Agent screen. As the Fixer said, the prep work for the job was already done, with the last element being a Netrunning infiltrating the Biotechnica headquarters to copy the data. On the surface, it appeared simple.
Maine relaxes upon seeing the intel, realizing that DeShawn reputation was well earned.
Sasha looks at the clock and realizes that she needs to go right now if plans to return in time to continue celebrating with her crew. “I will go ahead. Save a plate for me, chooms.”
Waving at the group, she exits the Afterlife.
A few minutes later, the Engineer Arrives.