Neon lights, holographic signs, thick clouds of smoke and the ever wild crowd. That summed up the aesthetic of Understreet, the den of the lowlifes of Sector-65 in the Quadrangle Region. This place was your average gathering of crooks and creeps, gangs and mercenaries, clustered together in one area for the authorities to monitor easily.
And Arthur hated having to make a trip here every time a new job came up his inbox. Even if he were to get used to all the smoke or the constant pickpockets after him, he would never quite really get the appeal of this place.
As he shifted through the sea of people, he maintained a slight childish smile, trying to look mysterious. Hair in a top-knot and dark-circled specs over his eyes, he stood out like a sore thumb, an easy target. So he had to be on alert, looking out for strangers that were trying to bump into him intentionally.
He could feel numerous gazes eyeing him, both human and mechanical, scanning him from top to bottom. Turning around, he gave a group of young thugs a knowing smirk. Looking at their robotic eyes whirring, he nodded slightly. A slight pause later, the trio turned away, allowing Arthur to release his breath. Good.
'I hate making this trip to the Rusties Den.' He groaned inwardly. 'Thankfully, my co-operation with them ends today.'
As he walked past a salon, the crowd started to thin. Humming a silly rhyme from a long time back, he crossed the road into a small alley, making his way towards the run-down sushi parlor at the end. As he drew near, a strong smell of fish and oil assaulted him, suggesting that the place was still in business. He came to a stop in front of the entrance and turned around to make sure the alley was empty, before pulling the chain on the door handle.
Without any sound, the entrance smoothly slid into the ground to reveal a set of stairs leading downwards. As he took a step forwards, he could feel the atmosphere around him change. The janky music and smoke that seemed to envelope the Understreet disappeared instantly. He did not have to turn around to know that the way back was gone.
He displayed a slight expression of surprise and interest, as he measured his changed surroundings. The staircase had disappeared and he was standing in hallway with two doors on each side. The walls were lined with pulsing blue circuitry, flickering in and out. The air was cold and sterile, a stark contract to the atmosphere out in the Understreet.
"They have upgraded the security here." He mused, observing the hall a little longer, his dark specs glinting just slightly.
"This must the be fourth time you are here, and the illusions still leaves you surprised every time." A metallic voice snickered. "I'd expect our brilliant consultant to be unphased."
The voice emerged from one of the doors lined against the hallway. There were four doors, two on each side. Arthur had only ever been inside the first one on the left. And that is where the voice originated from.
"I'm just a boy who loves science fiction, Broly. Tricks like these will always fascinate me." Arthur smiled to the voice, walking towards the door.
The room inside was small, no decorations, just two sofas aligned parallelly with a table in between. The man seated facing the door had a huge frame, bald head and arms made of metal. He wore a maroon colored three-piece suit, with matching glasses. In front of him, multiple holographic screens floated in the air, his hands moving across them like a pianist.
Despite his appearances, Broly was an academic. He was a professor in Cyber Crime a few years ago, before deciding to apply his knowledge to a more practical setting.
"Well, if you would take me up on my offer, I would love to show you more of these tricks." The big guy smirked at him.
Broly had offered him to join his gang. Then again, everyone else who he worked with had done the same. But Arthur worked best when he was alone. Shaking his head, he took a seat before the Boss of Rusties.
"Well, you know why I'm here. So let's just focus on that."
"Alright, you'll get your payment. But the jobs not done yet, not until the team returns. So you will have to wait till then. Should be any moment."
Arthur observed the big guy carefully, trying to gauge anything from his expression. If the gang had followed his plan correctly, then they should have returned well before his arrival. So unless Broly was trying to stall for time, which he felt was unlikely, something unexpected must have cropped up. But even then, they would not be delayed for this long.
The air turned cold, as the duo seemed to have fallen into a stare-off. Arthur did not make any movements while Broly continued to wave his hands away at the floating screens. But his eyes were trained on Arthur, deep in thought as well. Or maybe just waiting for him to make a move.
After what seemed like a very, short time, the door suddenly opened. Another guy with mechanical arms walked in and stood behind the leader, whispering something his ears.
Broly listened carefully to the report, tensing for a moment in the middle before relaxing. He then waved his hand, making all the screens disappear as he smiled brightly at Arthur.
"I had no doubt that team would return safely and successfully, not with your meticulously planned out instructions. The heist was a success. And we can talk about payment now."
Arthur did not reply directly, nor did he react in anyway. He could feel a change, a change in the boss' demeanor, the slightly different gaze, the way the man behind the boss was uncomfortable just a little bit. It seemed that the reason for their delay was something important. Getting his payment might be more difficult now.
"Let's just stick to the agreed contract, five percent of your winnings. Standard rate. Two server farms in the north-east of the sector. That's what we agreed upon." His voice was the same as before, but his body was already in a fight or flight mode now. He felt like a noose was closing around his neck at that moment. The air felt drier. But it wasn't the moment for him to act yet.
"That was what we agreed upon before the heist, but things have changed Arthur. I don't think the agreed payment was correct. In fact, I might have made a gross error in agreeing to that." Broly spoke each word clearly, making sure his intentions were apparent.
The situation seemed to be turning for worse, and Arthur could hear the sound of footsteps crowding outside the door. His escape route was guarded. He would have to be clever now, negotiate the best deal possible.
"It wasn't supposed to come to this so quickly. Maybe I should have waited until closing this deal. Let's just hope that greed hasn't blinded this big oaf yet."
But then, as if he had had enough, Broly broke into a smile. This time for real.
"God you should have seen the look on your face. I had you, didn't I?" He laughed out loud. The man behind him also smiled, as he handed Arthur a storage drive.
"Those are the agreed upon contracts for five server farms up in North of the sector, near the upper-circle of the region, just like we agreed. Your instructions saved my gang big money. But most importantly it saved their lives. For that its only right that I pay you the right amount." Broly leaned forward to shake his hands, his metallic palm feeling chilly against his sweaty palm.
"I totally forgot about that clause in our contract. But that's only because I predicted there was less than a one percent chance for the gang to come across the Specialist."
"The Specialist."
This was a very dangerous and very special mercenary in the underworld, who had made a name for himself. People like him had a separate category assigned to them in every contract deal. They were all "Special Grade"
Most of the times, there was a very unlikely chance of ever activating these clauses, since an encounter with a "Special Grade" on a mission meant huge losses and certain death. But after taking this job for the Rusties, Arthur had predicted that the "Specialist" had the highest chance among the "Special Grades" to encounter them on the heist. Which was still less than one percent. So to abide by his own work protocols and moral, he had laid out instructions in such a scenario in the contract. He had left the section for all other "Special Grades" empty.
Who would have known that the lone mercenary would actually show up.
"So I am guessing he was the reason for the delay? Would you mind disclosing the details of the encounter?"
"We guessed that you would want that as well, so a recording has been stored in the drive as well. But if you want a recount from Tony, he would oblige". He pointed towards the man standing behind him.
Tony was the right-hand man of Broly, second-in-command of the Rusties. He was the strength in their operations. Unlike Broly, whose arms were replaced due to medical requirements, Tony had his arms replaced for the strength and utility they had to offer. Some of the Bionic arms in the market came with special abilities. Very special abilities. Arthur guessed that his was one of such models.
"The Specialist appeared before our Beta squad when we were retreating after securing the prize. Obviously we weren't ready for his appearance. But thankfully, just like it was mentioned in the plan, he did not take action immediately, as if waiting for us to make our move first. I was leading the squad and had to pull up the plan, embarrassingly, because for my life I couldn't remember what your exact instructions were. And I didn't wanna take any chance..."
"..."
Tony finished his recount, his mechanical arms folding as he leaned back slightly.
"The Specialist showed up exactly like you predicted. Didn't move first, waited for us to make the move." He glanced at Arthur, "You actually managed to cook up a plan for a "Special Grade"! Are you really not going join our Gang? With you around, we could definitely become a large gang, swallowing the surrounding crooks in the Understreet"
And Arthur knew that this was absolutely true. With his help, he was confidant in supporting any mid-sized gang to completely surpass and become the new King of Understreet. But he knew himself the best and had no intentions of working in a team.
Getting the information about Rusties' encounter with the Specialist was an unexpected reward, but his time here was up. His gaze remained steady, as he picked the storage drive, nodding towards Tony and Broly in acknowledgement. The deal was done. Time to move.
Exiting the secluded parlor, the noisy chaos of Understreet swallowed him whole. He kept to the shadows as he made his way back through the neon-lit lanes, senses vigilant. Leaving this place was just as unpleasant as arriving in this den of crooks.
----
As he approached his residence, something caught his attention. A simple white package placed right outside his door.
But this wasn't unusual; surprises had become routine.
The quiet hum of the door's biometric lock greeted him as he slipped inside, the white package, now placed on a hovering metallic tray following behind. With practiced precision, Arthur began his assessment—
First, a visual inspection: no obvious tampering, no irregular bulges or scratches.
Next, tactile: felt every edge, tested for hidden compartments or microchips.
Then came the digital scan—running through layered encryption protocols, firewalls, and possible traps—anything out of place that could jeopardize his safety or the operation.
Satisfied, he slid the package open.
He had his own set of protocols to follow when dealing with anything unusual. And although he did wonder how the unwanted guest had probably left this package at his residence, he did not exactly dislike the mysteriousness.
Inside the package lay a sleek data slate, its surface gleaming under the dim light. After another series of tests to ensure that interacting with this technology was not going to land him in a virtual prison the next morning, he activated it.
A series of files appeared after—plans, coordinates, and encrypted communication logs. This was a detailed job that required his hand to perfect it. A consulting job, if he were to describe it. The job was no small fry; this was an opportunity to make waves, to achieve what he had been dreaming of.
Arthur sank into his chair, fingers interlocked. The risks were higher than ever, but so were the stakes. This was his moment, the bridge between survival and dominion.
Settling his thoughts, he began outlining contingencies, loopholes, escape routes, and alliances. There would be no room for error on this stage. It was going to be a long night.
The meeting with the client was days away; until then, he had to do his finish his homework in entirety, with no chance of error.
The night settled, but a huge storm seemed to be looming over.