Brick’s breath hitched.
He watched the barrel of Levi’s weapon slowly tilt upward, his fingers tightening around his own pistol.
“You want to trade lead with me?” Levi looked at him with a lopsided grin.
“No.
Your gun is too dangerous.
I wouldn’t win that fight.” Brick, showing a surprising amount of sense, dropped his gun.
“I let you walk when you killed Royce and Dum Dum,” Brick said, his voice cold.
“I even let you and that muscle-bound oaf leave.
Why come here and cause trouble?
Why kill Patricia and the Militech suit?
Do you think I can’t kill you?” “You could,” Levi replied matter-of-factly.
“But you’d die doing it.” Between his [Vision], [Lock-on], [Auto-aim], and [Breath-Regen], Levi was effectively a walking fortress.
Unless someone brought a heavy artillery strike to bear, he was practically impossible to put down.
“And you’ve got it wrong,” Levi added.
“I didn’t kill Patricia.
She chose to die.
If you aim a gun at me, you pay the price.
As for Anthony Gilchrist?
I’m here because someone put a 200,000 credit bounty on his head.” “I actually came here to buy intel from you, but it turns out the target was already sitting in your living room.” Brick went silent, processing the irony.
In the interim, Levi dialed Meredith Stout.
A moment later, the holo-feed appeared in the corner of his vision.
The Militech agent, cigarette in hand and clad in her signature black gloves, looked sharp.
“Levi.
What is it?” Her tone lacked the usual corporate condescension.
“Meredith.
The contract is closed.
Gilchrist is dead.” “Closed?
Already?” She looked genuinely stunned.
She’d only given him the contract yesterday morning.
“Confirmed.
You want the body?” Levi asked.
“Send a photo.” Levi snapped a shot of the corpse on the sofa using his Kiroshi optics and pushed it through the Ripper-Electric Mk.1 deck.
Meredith stared at the image for a long heartbeat.
“Well done, Levi.
I’ll transfer the remaining 100,000 credits to your shard immediately.” Her voice shifted, turning conspiratorial.
“Have you considered working for Militech?
Or…
for me?
I’m impressed.
We could sign a formal contract right now.” Levi leaned back, looking every bit the unbiddable nomad.
“No thanks.
Militech isn’t my speed.
But I have a small business proposition.
Interested?” “A proposition?” Meredith’s eyebrow arched.
“Tell me.” “A business deal involving Arasaka.” When he said the word, Meredith’s demeanor sharpened instantly.
“Arasaka?
That’s not a phone conversation.
We meet.” “Where?
Not my place again, I hope?” Levi joked.
“No.
Tonight, 23:00.
The ‘Mum’s the Word’ Motel, ground floor.
Come alone.” “See you there.” Levi hung up.
A second later, the 100,000 credits hit his account.
In three days, he had gone from a nobody to sitting on 248,000 credits.
Dammit, Levi thought, these contracts pay better than any desk job I ever had.
He turned to Brick.
“I killed a man on your turf.
Consider it a debt—I owe you one.
Call if you need a favor.” “You were about to talk business with your employer about Arasaka, weren’t you?” Brick asked as Levi turned to leave.
“Maybe.
You want a slice?” “I want to know if you have other Militech contacts,” Brick said.
“Consider that debt settled if you can help me out.” “I might.
What are you looking for?” “An introduction.
I’m the head of Maelstrom, Levi—I have a thousand mouths to feed every morning.
You killed Royce, Dum Dum, and Patricia; you’ve cut off our primary revenue stream.
Without a Militech connection, the gang is dead in the water.
Let us drink the soup while you guys eat the steak.” “I’ll see what I can do.
No promises,” Levi said.
“That’s enough for me.” Levi left the All Foods plant.
It was 21:00.
With two hours until his meeting, he found a street stall to grab a bite.
He avoided the “synthetic pasta” and went for a “Hot Dog”—a classic of Old America.
It was still hideous—the bun tasted vaguely of a gasoline-and-alcohol cocktail—but it was edible.
He washed it down with a Cerise Cola.
By 22:40, he was back in a cab, heading toward the ‘Mum’s the Word’ Motel.
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