I climbed up to the parking deck and walked straight toward them. My pistol slid out from the thigh slot as the disguise smoothly morphed into a police uniform.
"Alex Traunt. Don't move," I said calmly.
They never follow orders. It's a street reflex.
"Man, you walked into the wrong neighborhood," he grinned. "We'll help you out… right, boys?"
His grin froze when two precision shots ended his buddies' lives, and my barrel was already pressed against his head.
"You've got ten seconds. Tell me everything you know about the raid. Two machines were stolen two nights ago," I said.
"I don't know shit! I DON'T KNOW SHIT!" he screamed. My hand shot out he was now hanging mid-air by the collar.
"Ten... nine... eight... seven..." I began counting out loud.
"Okay, okay!" he yelled. "I was there! But those containers were empty! Nothing in 'em!" I yanked him back to the ground.
"Keep talking," I ordered.
"Black Shark she's our boss. Took a big contract. Money came in up front for the hardware. I don't know who the client was everything came through a fixer. And the fixer only talked through her. I'm just a grunt," he panted.
"So you're saying there was nothing inside?" I asked again.
"Yeah! We got screwed. Now the client wants his goods, and the corp wants our heads and we got nothing to show for it," he rasped.
"Doesn't look like you're hiding too hard," I smirked.
"Why bother? I'm nobody. Black Shark runs the show, and her inner circle they're the real players," Alex muttered.
"Who was the fixer?" I asked.
"Hell if I know! Told you, I was just muscle. Got a thousand eddies for the job," he spat.
"Where is Black Shark?" I asked.
"I... I don't" he hesitated. The muzzle of my gun pressed into his forehead.
"Outdoor gym. Down by the docks. Next to a diner called Big Sausage," he blurted.
"I'm calling the cops. You won't get far. They'll pick you up, and you get to live," I said coldly.
"Fine, fine," he nodded quickly.
Cuffs snapped around his wrists. My fingertips sparked with an electric charge, and the stun pulse knocked him out. Good thing I stumbled across him while wandering around Pacifica. Otherwise, I'd be sweeping every damn gym in Night City.
I needed answers. Who was the fixer? Who placed the order?
Once I know that the whole thing falls into place.
I was almost certain now: someone played both sides. Steal the CNC units, sell them, and file for insurance at the same time.
The Animals strong, resilient they could haul that kind of payload. And once the job's done, they'll get erased. Tied-up loose ends.
Incoming call: Sebastian Ibarra. Accept / Decline
He needed something.
"I'm listening."
"Peacemaker. Got a job for you," Sebastian said. "First: find the people who stole my client's property. Second: help recover it. There's been… a situation with the equipment. He needs it back. Urgently. Bonus pay if it's intact."
How convenient. Like he knew exactly what I was working on.
I'd suspected for a while that he knew who I really was. He always called at the right time. Too right. Knew too much. Sebastian Ibarra was a dangerous man. But for now, we were strictly business.
"Got it. I'm on it," I replied.
"Not gonna ask the price?"
"When the job's done, I'll name it."
"Bold. Just don't overprice yourself. Guys like that don't live long," he said, like an older brother who's seen it all.
There's an old saying: "Beware the old men in a world where young men die fast."
Sebastian Ibarra and Rogue Amendiares two of the last veteran fixers still standing.
Most others didn't make it long in this business.
"I'll remember that," I said curtly.
The call was cut off. By then, I had already reached the right platform. A quick scan of the area immediately highlighted the people I was looking for. My implant scanner showed that Black Shark had prototypes of unknown origin in her body. The rest of the implants were standard strength, reflex, and speed enhancers.
She had no serious criminal record. Her main job was security and escort. Technically a legal business.
And now she was caught up in a shady gig and neck-deep in it, by the looks of it.
If she's willing to talk, this'll be a lot easier. I hope she's got some brains unlike the others, who all run the same program: act first, think later.
Switching my avatar to "Peacemaker," black chassis, I walked straight toward them without hiding.
"What the fuck do you want?" one of the Animals asked, stepping in my way.
"I need Black Shark," I said calmly.
"Maybe you need someone else too? While you're still breathing get lost," he growled, stepping closer.
"Black Shark. I need a word. You'll want to hear this," I said louder, modulating my voice slightly to make sure it reached her.
She dropped the barbell had to be at least two hundred kilos which she'd been curling with ease. Then she walked toward me. Close to two meters tall, she completely blocked me from view. Next to her, I looked small.
"Why the hell should I listen to you?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I could crush your skull. Easy. You'll die for taking a contract on me."
I wondered why they called her Black Shark. Maybe because of the dark-themed clothing. Or maybe because of the tattoo that stretched from her wrist to her neck a solid black shark with a crimson mouth and white teeth. Only up close did it actually look like a shark. The pigment was so dark I'd thought it was just a blotch at first.
"You've got a choice," I said calmly. "Either you tell me everything, and the corps and solos won't come chasing you to get their gear back. Or sit tight and wait for someone to come for your head. I know you didn't steal the equipment. But no one's gonna prove that. All I need is the fixer's name. Maybe the client too."
She said nothing. Just a twitch in her facial muscles like emotions pulsing beneath the skin.
"Why do you even care about the truth?" she finally asked. "Could've just cashed in on my head and been done with it."
"That's just my thing," I said. Classic case of the investigation sickness you can't rest until every piece of the puzzle's in place. Something inside starts gnawing at you. I used to deal with it with cigarettes… and booze, if I'm being honest.
"Your thing, huh?" Black Shark smirked. "Well, my thing is a good fight."
She stepped closer and held out her hand.
"First, you satisfy mine. Then I'll satisfy yours. Deal?"
"Deal," I replied. Not with much enthusiasm. My voice was steady as always, but deep down, I hated it.
"Clear out. Give us space," she called out, grinning. "Let's see what this borg is made of."
The Animals stepped back, some laughing, some howling, forming an improvised ring. Shark stepped into the center like she owned the place. Like she did this every day. I followed. No swagger.
I didn't like any of this. In terms of raw strength, she definitely had me beat. My scanners were silent, but my gut told me there was something non-standard in her loadout.
Unidentified implant activity detected.
The message flashed I didn't even have time to react.
Her fist hit my face with such speed that my body didn't even have a chance to dodge or block. I flew back, flipping through the air, and slammed into a wall. My vision flared red.
Body integrity: 23%
Shit… bad idea going hand-to-hand with her.
"Ugh… Matthew…" I exhaled as I got back up, pulling myself together.
"Changed your mind about the fight?" Shark shouted.
Dad always said you shouldn't hit women. But you asked for it. And I'm about to break that rule.
Energy surged through my body. Combat implants lit up.Time to throw down.