Once Meredith Stout dropped the “100k up front, 100k on completion” line, the contract was sealed with terrifying efficiency.
The job was simple in principle: Kill Anthony Gilchrist, a Militech agent.
Meredith suspected he was selling company data to Night City’s street gangs but lacked the concrete proof needed for a formal arrest.
Having heard about the newcomer who wiped out Royce and Dum Dum, she decided to weaponize that carnage.
She’d tried the threat approach, failed, and now—thanks to the bullet hole in her leg—she was treating it like a legitimate business arrangement.
“Cleanly, if possible,” she murmured, cigarette smoke curling around her head.
“I don’t want the contents of this contract leaking.
If it does, we both die.” “Contract: Kill Anthony Gilchrist.
Got it,” Levi said, leaning back on the sofa with the Atlas 45 still in his lap.
“If you’d led with the money, I wouldn’t have had to put a hole in you.” Meredith offered a tight, forced smile.
“Here’s the deposit.” She produced a thumb-sized chip glowing with a faint red light and handed it to him.
“100,000 eddies.
The rest follows upon confirmation.” Levi squinted at the chip like a caveman looking at a smartphone.
“How do I use this?” “Plug it into the interface slot behind your ear,” she said, her voice strained.
Levi slotted the chip into his Zeiss OS interface.
His balance—which had dipped to around 60k—instantly jumped by 100k.
He grinned and waved a dismissive hand at her.
“Job accepted.
Now get out.
If I ever see you enter my home uninvited again, I’ll let Militech find your body.” She didn’t hesitate.
She stood up, limping toward the door.
“Meredith!” She froze, her heart skipping a beat as she turned back.
“Clean up your trash,” Levi said, gesturing to the two cooling corpses on his floor.
Meredith, a high-ranking Militech operative who had spent her life looking down on the “unwashed masses,” felt the humiliation burn hot in her throat.
But she was the fish and he was the knife.
She dragged the bodies out into the putrid trash heap of the H10 mega-building’s hallway without a word.
Levi watched her go, then turned his focus to the new character data window that had materialized: [Name: Meredith Stout] [Affiliation: Militech] [Threat Level: Low] [Evaluation: Corporate execs are the new aristocracy.
She sits in a tower, looking down at the city.
A megalomaniac who achieves goals at any cost—and succeeds.
She despises the common folk and finds the lower classes repulsive.] “A pathetic, power-hungry, self-righteous woman,” Levi mused, lounging back.
“These types are the easiest to break.
Once they meet someone more ruthless than they are, they learn to behave very quickly.” He tapped the evaluation panel.
It was a new feature unlocked by his rising reputation, and it was invaluable.
If he’d had this when he met Vektor, he wouldn’t have had to waste time probing the guy.
Militech.
Arasaka.
Trauma Team.
“Let’s see what these companies are really made of.” A quick browse through the local network confirmed his suspicions: they weren’t just companies; they were absolute, monopolistic juggernauts of the global economy.
“Ha!
I really am something, aren’t I?
I managed to piss off three transnational mega-corps in less than twenty-four hours.” He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.
After a bit more research on history and tech, he closed the feed and used his OS to call Jackie.
Jackie’s grinning mug appeared in his optical display.
“Hey, Mano!
Good morning!
Calling to come grab a drink at my mom’s place, the Coyote Cojo?” Levi marveled at Jackie’s endless energy.
If he had to drink chemical-laced water and eat plastic-textured “noodles” his whole life, he’d probably have snapped long ago.
“Jackie, I just picked up a job for Militech.
Need your input—is this one worth the heat?” Jackie’s brows furrowed.
“Corporate jobs…
they’re a different kind of poison, Mano.
Can’t talk about it over the net.
Let’s meet somewhere private.” “You’re the veteran, I’m the rookie.
Lead the way.” “Come to the Coyote Cojo.
It’s my turf.
The Corp-rats don’t dare barge in there.” “See you there,” Levi said, cutting the feed.
Mercenary?
He smirked to himself.
Being a simple merc was small potatoes.
If he was going to play in Night City, he was going to play for the big stage—the kind of stage that would leave Arasaka, Militech, and Trauma Team reeling from a massive, structural shock.
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