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"Here are your drinks."
The blonde bartender at the Moth Bar didn't keep them waiting. As soon as everyone in Karl's crew was seated, she placed a glass of sweet tea in front of Karl—the first to order.
It was clearly prepared with care. Along with the ice cubes, a few mint leaves floated atop the drink, giving it a refreshing, crisp edge—perfect for the increasingly hot weather.
Karl took a closer look at the mint.
Mint wasn't standard in most Night City bars. Rosemary was more common, prized for its supposed liver-protective properties. The logic went: if you were going to fry your insides with alcohol, at least pretend to be healthy about it—especially if you were a corpo type living on health kits and stimulants. But mint? That wasn't for the binge drinkers.
Mint signaled something else: patrons looking for light, clean flavors—those who came to a bar not for the booze, but for something else entirely.
In a place like Afterlife? Sure. They catered to all kinds and could afford fresh mint. But here? In a down-and-out Dogtown bar? That was... odd.
Without showing anything on his face, Karl raised the glass.
Just then, Jack reached out. "Karl, I'm parched. Mind if I snag the first sip?"
"Be my guest."
Karl passed the tea over. Jack gave an apologetic smile—and took a big gulp.
Activating Black Mamba implant in my circulatory system. Beginning chemical analysis on the ingested fluid. If anything's off, I'll act immediately.
Jack's voice came through calmly over the team comms.
The Black Mamba was a recent implant, designed to help flush toxins—perfect for someone with Jack's berserker-grade cyberware. As the team's only specialist in this area, it made sense he'd be the one to test the drink.
Of course, he didn't actually swallow the tea. He tilted the glass as if he were drinking, but barely let a few drops touch his tongue. With a subtle flick of his wrist, the rest flowed discreetly into his inner sleeve.
"Damn, that hit the spot!"
Leaving only a few ice cubes, Jack lowered the glass and used his posture to hide the wet patch. He set the empty cup on the bar.
"I finally get why you always drink this stuff. Sweet tea with mint and ice in this heat? It's heaven. Mouth's not dry anymore at all."
He spoke with exaggerated enthusiasm, his wide-open mouth helping to flick off any residual liquid from his lips.
"You drank the whole thing," Karl complained with mock annoyance. "I was gonna drink around your backwash."
While the others chuckled, Jack finished his analysis.
Taste sensors show nothing abnormal. I've granted T-Bug access to the Black Mamba system. T-Bug, anything in my bloodstream? If there is, call Trauma Team. I wanna be lying down before they show up.
Dogtown doesn't allow Trauma Team in. You remember the report from last week? Maelstrom Dogs shot one down. Anyway, scan's clean. No toxins. Just lots of sugar and some brand-name preservatives. It's legit sweet tea.
"So… it's not poisoned?"
Oliver, still chatting with Maine, typed into the comms: Were we just paranoid?
Better safe than flatlined, T-Bug replied. Dogtown's shady as hell. Just because the first drink was clean doesn't mean the next will be. Stay sharp.
V didn't disagree. But there was a problem.
Jack drank the first one. What about the rest of us? We don't have toxin resistance mods. What if they spike our next round? Maybe we should bounce—tell Maine we're heading out. No point lingering in a sketchy bar.
Good idea, Jack replied. Maine says this place has been safe for them, but still... better cautious than cooked.
Let's give them a reason to leave, he added. Have them show us around Dogtown a bit.
Could work—but not yet.
Karl chimed in, having just accessed the old urban planning database. He'd pulled up a pre-Unification War schematic of the district—and what he found was interesting.
Structurally, there should be a large open space beneath them.
Specifically, directly under the Moth Bar.
And judging by the building's wear and architecture, the bar was constructed six years ago.
Six years ago…
Right after the Unification War ended.
That's… one hell of a coincidence.
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