Chapter 2: Chapter 2: C For Contract

[Northside, Watson]

A black Quadra Type-66 640 TS drove into a parking lot of a motel-like place in Northside. Once the car was parked safely, a man got out of the beautiful car, it was Ethan, bringing a bag of food for himself. The place was quiet, but who knows what is happening inside all those doors.

The dim light of the streetlamp was flickering, and Ethan walked through the silent corridor, climbing up the stairs to his flat. When he arrived at the place, he could only sigh at the sight.

It was a simple place, there was a queen-size bed, an arcade machine in the middle, shelves filled with a couple of books, a small cupboard to store his clothes, and the most eye-catching of all, his high-end computer rig.

Two of the screens were showing hexadecimal numbers, constantly changing. Ethan walked towards his computer, dropped his food bag on the table, before opening it.

It was fried rice, one of his favorite dish. Ever since a kid, where he spent most of his time in Laguna Bend, the now sunken town in the badlands, he always liked cooking, his mom taught them many recipes, including the more… illegal ones, yet he always finds comfort in the simplicity, and at the same time, the complexity of fried rice.

He devoured the fried rice, but his eyes were staring elsewhere. He was staring at the hexadecimal numbers, seemingly consumed by it. His optical cyberware was able to translate these hexadecimal numbers to words in an instant, and all those hexa numbers in the screens were data, mined from Arasaka communication towers.

He was looking for something specific. Something… unique from those datastrings.

“Saburo… Saburo…” he murmured, looking for the name in the mined data.

Yet, nothing. There was no mention of the man in Arasaka’s comms at all.

But he found some interesting things from the mined data. A chip, taken by Saburo’s son, Yorinobu, and the chip was in Night City right now.

He decided to hold on to it, he took a pen and paper, and wrote what he had seen. For a ‘tech-literate’ man, he often used old technology like a pen and paper to write down something, untraceable, the netrunners can’t see it at all.

He quickly finished the rest of his fried rice and threw the trash outside. He sat on his bed, checking whether he had any messages or not, and once he confirmed that he didn't have any, he quickly went to sleep, entering into a deep slumber.

—

Ethan worked on his restaurant as usual, but today was a slow day. While the place is still quite packed, less people came, so Ethan has time to sit with the customers, chatting about life. He was now sitting with a peculiar duo, one had a big body, and the other looked quite small, but Ethan got a feeling that this man was quite a capable dude.

“How you peeps doing?” asked Ethan with a smile, sitting in front of the two mercs.

“Ah señor Ethan!” said the big man with a smile. “Your food is always good! Dirt cheap as well, I don’t know how many times you saved us from starvation when we ran out of money.”

“Well, happy to help.” Ethan shrugged. “You two are mercs?”

“Yeah.” said the other one. “Got any job for us? We can give you a discount.”

“Well, it depends,” said Ethan. “Can you two cook?”

“Well, I watched my Mama cook, does that count?”

Ethan scoffed as he took out some cig and lit it up. “That hardly counts.”

“Why? You’re understaffed?” asked the big man.

Ethan hummed. “One of my staff got zeroed because of a gang shootout. Need a replacement for him.”

“Well, I can’t cook.” the big man said. “But if you want to hire us for revenge…”

“Not interested…” Ethan sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Jackie Welles señor, at your service.” the big man grinned.

“Welles? As in Mama Welles?” Ethan pointed out.

“You know my Mama?” asked Jackie, a bit surprised.

“I drank at the Coyote in my teenage years.” Ethan said, dropping some ash to the tray. “And you?”

“V.” said the other guy.

“Just V?”

“I prefer for people to call me V.” said the man, insisting.

“Aight, no judging.” Ethan commented. “Alright, if you can find me a replacement, I’ll pay you handsomely.”

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“How much are we talking?” asked Jackie with interest.

“Depends on the skills.” said Ethan. “30.000 max.”

Jackie was gobsmacked. “Jesucristo! You’re loaded, señor!”

“Only if the cook is skilled.” Ethan is pointed out. “What do you say? I could just contact a fixer to find someone.”

Jackie drank his beer quickly and stood up from his seat, his face seemed excited. “Don’t worry señor, we will find you someone!”

“Please, don’t call me señor…” Ethan sighed. “I’m still 25.”

Ethan just watched as the two partners walked away from the restaurant, seemingly amused by their attitudes. Suddenly, a message came to his mail. It was a fixer, by the name of Regina Jones, the one who supplied him with his last job.

[Regina: got an interesting job for you. But you must meet the client first]

Ethan only raised his brow, but he seemed interested in hearing what the job is.

—

[Afterlife, midnight]

Ethan sat on the bar rather quietly, he was drinking his own drink, ‘The Ghostwire’, a mix between Gin, Campari, and vermouth, making the drink blood red. Ethan was wearing a face jammer, but unlike any other jammers, his face was entirely missing, as if the ones who stared at him were staring into the abyss, only pitch black greeted them.

His jammer was quite eye-catching, everybody knows who he is, but nobody wants to talk to him, except the bartender Claire.

Ethan quickly finished his drink, dropping the glass to the bar.

“Another one?” Claire asked casually.

Ethan just shook his head. “Got a job tonight.”

“Oh? Who’s the lucky corpo?”

“Don’t know yet. Supposed to meet the client here.” Ethan answered.

Claire just hummed at the answer. “Well, happy waiting.”

The bartender quickly moved on to the other customers, walking to the other side of the bar, because the other customers didn’t want to sit besides Ethan, too intimidating.

He waited for about a minute, watching the tv casually to waste some time. A man suddenly sat beside him, but he didn’t look at Ethan, he just stared at the bar.

“You the Ghostwire?” said the man flatly.

“Client?” Ethan asked back.

The client nodded. “Your target— it’s the mayor, Lucius Rhyne.”

Ethan took out a cig and lit it up, puffing some nicotine. “Go on.”

“You know his office right? In Heywood, the Glen. but I need you to not flatline him directly.”

Ethan raised his brow. “Meaning?”

“You gotta make it seem like an accident.” the client reiterated. “Preferably put him in an embarrassing situation.”

Ethan hummed, puffing out smoke from his mouth. “Why may I ask?”

“I thought you solos wouldn't ask a client’s reason?”

“True,” said Ethan, dropping some ash to the tray. “But if this is about politics, then I’m out.”

“We’re in Night City. Everything can be politicized in the corpo world.” said the client. “But no, I want him zeroed for revenge.”

Ethan puffed out another smoke, the sound of crackling fire could be heard from an earshot as the cig quickly turned to ash. Ethan stood up, put out the cig, and threw it on the tray. “Consider it done.”

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