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Chapter 162 c
🕑 Added 2025-04-13 15:00:11 +0000 UTCChapter 162 c
Dexter leaned back into the sofa, arms spread like a triumphant king.
“Newcomer’s cut follows the old rules. No haggling. You get thirty percent.”
Thirty percent was a decent sum, but even someone as clueless about corporate tech as Jackie sensed the Relic’s colossal potential. Even a small percent more might blow all other gigs out of the water. Jackie decided to test the waters anyway—if it failed, they’d lose nothing.
“Come on, thirty percent?!” Jackie protested.
“In this show, every actor shoulders risk,” Dexter retorted. “That cut is exactly what you deserve. End of story.”
Meanwhile, Leo kept cleaning and bandaging V’s hand but didn’t miss a word of the negotiation. Jackie pressed further, “Dexter, you’re giving the three of us only thirty percent? That’s ten percent each, less than we’d earn doing a smaller job on our own.”
The reason Jackie said "Three people.” was because Leo had already decided Lucy would stay away. This time they were dealing directly with Arasaka, which was too dangerous for someone on the corporation’s wanted list. Lucy understood; one misstep could escalate a hard job into a suicide mission. Worry or not, she had to sit this one out.
Jackie continued pushing. “Hey, who brought you the Flathead? Who’s about to go meet with Parker because you can’t get the info yourself? And in the end, who’s risking their neck stealing the chip from Arasaka? You’ll be parked here at Afterlife, air conditioning on, enjoying a nice drink, while we handle all the danger. Then you offer us thirty percent?”
Dexter wasn’t about to back down. “Wanna lay it all out? Fine. Who’s arranging your transport, top-tier netrunner, and this entire deal in the first place? Still wanna keep going, chombatta?”
He was clearly referring to T-Bug, an elite netrunner whose share was typically higher than a standard merc’s. Dexter presumably planned on giving her a decent slice, which might leave only ten percent each for Leo, V, and Jackie.
Jackie frowned. “And what exactly do you mean by ‘transport’?”
“Using Delamain cabs to get you in and out, of course. Plus a premium Trauma Team plan. Dexter DeShawn only works with the best. Delamain and platinum care are it.”
Leo chuckled. “You can hold off on the Delamain and platinum. We already have them.”
Dexter paused. “Excuse me? Are you joking, Mr. Leo?”
Leo met his gaze. “Do I look like I’m joking? I have a yearly subscription for my whole team.”
Dexter blinked, momentarily lost for words. “…All right, if you’re not bluffing, I’ll bump it to forty-five percent. That’s the max.”
Jackie’s eyes lit up. “Forty-five, huh…now that feels more like a real payday.”
Dexter draped his thick arms over the sofa back in a show of dominance. “Been a while since anyone wheedled more cash out of me. All right, Mr. Leo—when do you plan on taking your ‘Delamain cab’ to meet Ms. Parker?”
“I’m not rushing you,” Dexter added, “but you know how it is in our line of work—speed is everything. The longer we delay, the more chance of trouble.”
He emphasized “Delamain cab” heavily, still half-suspicious. Leo only smiled, then made a call right in front of him. “Delamain? Pick me up at Afterlife.”
“Certainly, Mr. Leo,” came the polite reply. “On my way.”
One minute later, Dexter stepped outside and watched with his own eyes as Leo, V, and Jackie climbed into a Delamain cab. Only then did he believe it completely.
Dexter stood by the door, arms crossed, watching the Delamain cab roll smoothly into the street and disappear into the Night City traffic.
Platinum-tier? He scoffed under his breath. That kind of subscription wasn’t something most mercs even dreamed of. Not unless they had corporate backing or buried stashes of eddies somewhere.
So why the hell’s a guy like that still taking jobs from me? Dexter squinted at the tail lights as the cab drifted into traffic. If I had that kind of cash, I’d be sipping whiskey in a penthouse, not crawling through sewers binding his time.
It didn’t add up. Either Leo was bored rich, or he had a reason for staying in the muck.
Dexter didn’t like question marks in his deals—but so far, Leo delivered. That was enough. For now.
…..............
..
.
The taxi cruised through Little China, neon signs blurring past. V sat in silence, her mood obviously low. Leo glanced over, wondering if she was still brooding about Dexter’s mention of Evelyn Parker.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “No.”
The answer was short, but her expression said otherwise. Leo ventured a guess. “You think I’ve been in touch with Evelyn behind your back? It’s not that, is it?”
He recalled their previous encounter at Lizzie’s Bar, when Evelyn tried to sweet-talk him right in front of V and Lucy. Even though he’d turned her down, he thought maybe V was still upset about that.
She shook her head again. “No…I’m just…angry at myself.”
Leo looked surprised. “Angry at yourself?”
V sighed. “Don’t you think Evelyn’s great at dressing up? Like a peacock fanning its feathers. Then look at me…”
She gestured down at her outfit with a sigh—tight black tank stretched snug across her chest, and hot pants that left little to the imagination. Her skin was pale, the kind that stood out against the dark leather seats, with tattoos winding down her arms like a quiet serpent. Her legs were toned and athletic, and Leo couldn’t help but take a second glance at the way her thick thighs filled out the seat beside him.
To him, she looked incredible. But V only looked more disheartened.
Leo reached for her uninjured hand, his grip gentle.
“I think you’re way more attractive than Evelyn—and definitely more charismatic.”
V blushed but gave him a sideways look. “Don’t say that just to flatter me. I hate empty compliments.”
“I’m not lying,” Leo said, dead serious. “You’ve got that sharp edge to you, that spark in your eyes she couldn’t fake on her best day. And when things go south? I know you’ll have my back. Evelyn?” He shrugged. “She’d probably sell me out for a pair of Louboutins.”
That got a snort from V, though she tried to hide it behind her hand.
“But she’s got that… I don’t know, womanly mystique,” V muttered. “Like she walks into a room and everyone forgets what they were doing.”
Leo leaned closer, voice dropping slightly. “Maybe. But when you walk into a room, people remember why they showed up in the first place.”
She blinked. “That’s actually… kinda smooth.”
Leo smirked. “What can I say? Comes out when I’m telling the truth.”
She traced a small circle in his palm with her fingertip, eyes softer now.
“Say more. I like hearing it.”
“All right. You know how Watson beats the other districts?”
She played along, raising an eyebrow. “Because it’s got your favorite noodle shop?”
“Nope,” he said. “Because it’s got fewer skyscrapers… so the wind can blow freely—blow you straight into my arms.”
That earned him a giggle and a playful slap on the arm. “Ugh, you were doing so well.”
“Hey, I gotta keep my streak of cheesy lines alive.”
Meanwhile, Jackie, sitting in front from them, gave them a blank look and muttered internally “Yo… should I be here for this?”
…
Soon, they arrived at Lizzie’s Bar. V and Jackie stayed in the cab. “She wants to see you, right?” V said. “No need for us to tag along.”
Leo nodded. “All right. I’ll go on my own.”
Outside Lizzie’s, a Mox with a high bun greeted him warmly. “Long time no see, Leo! In the mood for a new braindance?”
“Not today. I’m here to meet someone.”
“Suit yourself. If you change your mind, just let the bartender know.”
He waved and headed in. Lizzie’s still bustled, music pumping away. Compared to the Totentanz, though, the volume here was a lot less ear-splitting, and the lighting more pleasant.
Leo made for the bar. “Matéo.”
The bartender nodded in acknowledgment. “Evening, Leo. Fancy a drink?”
“Iced cola, please.”
Matéo snorted. “This is a bar, not a fast-food joint.”
