That night, the crew didn't touch a drop of alcohol. By the time the next morning's sun rose, the highest-security Delamain limo was already parked outside their base.
Dexter had rented it for the entire day—lavish as ever.
Standing at the entrance, the four of them wore outfits completely different from their usual gear: suits or casual wear. After all, they were heading to the Konpeki Plaza. Showing up dressed like Badlands Nomads would draw way too much attention.
Of them, only V seemed comfortable in the new look. Rebecca was the worst off... stuffed into a women's suit, she looked like a wild monkey in clothes, fidgeting and bouncing around.
"Hey! What's with you? You've been quiet since yesterday." V stood by the door, watching Arthur with a faint trace of concern.
"Resting up? People like us need to save our strength before a job... right?" Arthur answered casually, not even realizing anything was off about himself.
V folded her arms, frowned, and shook her head. "Doesn't feel that simple... What, you worried about this gig?"
Meeting her scrutinizing gaze, Arthur waved a hand impatiently. "Cut it out. Don't pin anything on me... But if things really do go sideways, don't go getting weak in the knees.
Remember who carried you out of that drone wreck?
I sure don't."
"Ah ha..." V bared her teeth in a grin, then quickly shifted the subject.
"Once we're inside Konpeki Plaza, we'll split into two teams... Dexter only prepped two fake IDs.
We'll use the fakes to get Flathead in first... then Jackie and Rebecca follow. As long as they're not carrying weapons, they won't have any trouble."
Arthur shrugged, nodding toward Jackie and Rebecca as they walked out of the base. "That's your call to make. And look—those two slackers finally showed up."
Stretching, V pushed off the doorframe and turned back. "Hand over Flathead. We'll head out first... You two follow later.
Once we reach Konpeki Plaza, we split into two teams."
The four broke off. The case carrying Flathead passed from Jackie's hands to Arthur's.
"Damn it, we're hauling a box of rocks to a heist," Arthur muttered as he tossed the case into the trunk.
"Hey!
This isn't a robbery, dammit. I know that's your thing, but we need to keep it low-key this time." Sliding into the car, V shot him an annoyed look.
Arthur sighed, inexplicably. What he said next caught V off guard.
"Robbery... or fraud. Better than stealing, at least. That's how it looks to me."
On the other side, V studied his face carefully... and realized he wasn't joking. "Holy shit. I don't know why you'd say that... but that makes absolutely no fucking sense."
"Doesn't it?" Arthur's raspy voice carried surprising conviction. Stealing... it's like squeezing debts... just feels low."
The two went back and forth casually, forgetting they weren't the only ones in the car.
"Database records show that some individuals do, in fact, share this gentleman's outlook. They prefer targeting corporations and the powerful with illegal acts, rather than the weak and poor.
However, from a universal standpoint, this is clearly a distorted philosophy. Most illegal acts do not align with human moral standards."
The flat, electronic voice cut in abruptly. Emotionless—but strangely amusing.
The car had already been on the road for some time. Both Arthur and V sat in the back, while the voice came from the front seat's headrest display.
Arthur glanced at V, unsettled. A car talking? It felt like... one day, his horse might greet him with "Good morning."
And this time, the damn car seemed smarter than before.
"Different service tiers come with different AI levels. With this premium package... Delamain's main AI dedicates its full processing power to the ride."
V explained, glancing at the display. A bald, oddly shaped face appeared on the screen. Though the look suggested a man, the features were completely neutral.
"Why chat with us at all? Far as I know, Delamain should be busy as hell."
V's curiosity lingered on the face. Its expressions shifted with near-human fluidity.
"Your conversation is interesting... And based on my calculations, light interaction enhances the user's journey. That is part of my responsibility."
As an AI, Delamain's reply still carried a mechanical edge—but lacked the stiffness one might expect.
"This... thing... It's not just someone in a mask?" Arthur muttered, tapping the screen with his finger.
"Sir, judging from your words, your knowledge level appears rather low," Delamain's digitally shaded face responded matter-of-factly.
"Ugh... this thing!" Arthur shot V a look, irritation creeping into his voice. "Can't you shut it up?"
"Of course. If instructed, I will remain silent... But let me ask again: are you certain? Conversation may help ease your agitation."
It was still Delamain answering. Arthur's jaw clenched, cheeks tight.
"Fine! Then shut your mouth, you hunk of iron."
On the screen, Arthur thought he saw the faintest twitch of lips... Damn it. Probably just his imagination.
Riding in a Delamain car... you barely felt a bump. But don't mistake smoothness for slowness—on the streets, these taxis were notorious for overtaking convoys of supercars without breaking a sweat.
By the time the vehicle slowed to a stop, they had already arrived at the Konpeki Plaza's front entrance.
"Passenger, you have arrived at your destination. During your rental, if any issues arise, please contact Delamain.
And finally...
Choose Delamain—leave your troubles behind.
We look forward to serving you again."