"So after all that running around, we ended up back here—Serenity Bible Church. Think this was our original plan?"
"No way. If we hadn't come here under the pretense of taking a job, what intel would we have been able to get?"
Disguised as Maine, Jackie glanced at Oliver. He now suspected the reason Oliver had chosen to pose as Pilar was because Pilar was also a chatterbox—less chance of giving anything away through slip-ups.
"Anyway, someone should meet us inside. The Voodoo Boys said no more than five people, so they're obviously cautious about numbers. Works out for us."
"David"—Karl, in disguise—walked behind Jackie. "You're the team lead now, 'Maine.' Everything's on you."
"Don't worry, David. Stick close and take notes."
Jackie leaned into the role, then glanced over at V. "But you know what? V actually does look a lot like Lucy. Even the way you walk. If I hadn't watched you practice, I'd swear you were some kind of deep-cover operative. You picked up the mannerisms way too fast."
Faced with the compliment, "Lucy" managed a stiff smile.
No doubt about it—this disguise was pushing V's limits. He never imagined that pretending to be a woman would be this frustrating.
Thinking back, he suddenly had newfound respect for the street performers he'd seen—those people whose appearance blurred every line. There were some real masters among them.
"If we ever have to do this again," V muttered through clenched teeth in Lucy's exact voice, "we're drawing straws."
"Keep your expression steady, V. If the Voodoo Boys notice even a flicker of something off on your face, this whole plan's toast."
Jackie held his hands out, signaling him to stay calm. "No outsiders will ever know about this."
"Having you guys see me like this is already enough. Thank God Panam's not around."
V let out a deep sigh, then instantly shifted gears.
This was the benefit of being a pro used to strange gigs. Once V snapped back into Lucy's signature cold, detached expression, he fully looked the part.
"Let's go. Our contact's probably waiting."
"Yeah, time to put on a show."
The four of them arrived at the church at 6:55 a.m. When they pushed the doors open, the scene inside matched Jackie's description to the letter—strange, dazzling lighting, a crowd surrounding a central platform, and a woman dressed like a stripper delivering a fiery sermon and drawing everyone's eyes.
Karl scanned the people inside. Almost everyone was Black, or had features suggesting mixed heritage.
A Haitian enclave...
He muttered to himself, then noticed a hooded figure watching their group and slowly approaching.
A few steps later, the figure reached Jackie—who had already noticed and turned to face him.
"You Maine? You're earlier than expected."
The man's hood shifted, revealing a Black face, barely visible in the church's dim, pulsing light. "At least this crew understands punctuality."
Jackie raised a brow. "Sounds like someone else didn't."
"The last crew was over an hour late," the hooded man said. "We were already wrapping up the sermon."
"So, that job fell through?"
"If you can't follow basic rules like showing up on time, there's no point continuing."
The man gave Jackie a quick once-over. "We only work with mercs who are competent and follow orders."
'And then kill them after the job's done, right?'
Jackie kept the thought to himself, his expression completely neutral. "So, you're our contact? Where do we talk?"
He looked around at the crowd. "Here?"
"Exit the same way you came. Walk fifty meters, then turn right. Ten more meters and there's a butcher shop. Someone will be waiting. Just say you're here to see Placide—he'll explain everything."
"Damn cautious. First the church, then the butcher shop. I bet the butcher shop isn't even the final stop."
Jackie tested him with the comment, but got only a blank stare in return. The man then turned and faded back into the congregation, clearly done talking.
'All this rigmarole just to take a job. Even if we didn't know the Voodoo Boys treat mercs like trash afterward, I'd still think twice about working for them. The whole vibe is culty.'
'It's not culty. Just... tedious. You're being too judgmental, Jackie.'
Karl chimed in over the comms. "But yeah, they're careful. Won't be easy to figure out where their base is."
"We'll find out soon enough."
Jackie stopped talking and followed the instructions, exiting the church. Judging by his stride, he'd had enough of this place already.
A Catholic stepping into a Voodoo temple? Yeah, that was never going to sit right.
Once the others followed him out, the hooded man—who had resumed listening to the sermon—turned to watch them leave. Then he sent a message:
"Confirmed. They're posing as Maine's crew. Four members—leader Maine, plus David, Pilar, and Lucy. The rest are likely on standby. They've left the building."
"I understand."
At the butcher shop…
A large Black man with dreadlocks slowly lowered his phone.
He wore a leather jacket over a red tank top. His exposed chest showed off thick slabs of muscle—and the faint, unmistakable outline of heavy subdermal armor.
On the counter beside him sat a gleaming butcher knife.
Next to the blade: freshly slaughtered meat, still dripping blood and reeking of iron.
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🔥 Cyberpunk: The Relentless
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