Dexter nodded, "Go ahead, Mr. V."
Vash asked, "Mr. DeShawn… why ask for me specifically? I've been keeping a low profile."
Dexter: "Mr. V… I'm a businessman."
Vash: "Hmph. Your rep in Night City's something else."
Dexter: "My business is simple. I find out what people want… then I find the right talent to make it happen. Smooth. Clean."
He took a slow pull on his cigar, letting the smoke hang.
"Jackie and I go way back. Heard about that run for Wakako — pulling someone outta Scavs' hands and walking away without a scratch. Leaving 'em no angle for payback. That takes skill. Takes planning.
Jackie's good with iron, sure. But strategy? Not exactly his strong suit. And T-Bug — solid netrunner, but she stays technical. Not the type to improvise a whole op mid-firefight…
Then I hear Jackie's got a new friend."
Dexter's eyes stayed on Vash.
"Mr. V… if you're the one holding it together, makes sense I'd want to meet you. See if we can do business."
Dexter lived up to the hype. Night City's top fixer didn't need to wave a gun to clear his path, and he sure as hell didn't cram himself into a netrunner chair to play puppet-master from some filthy garage.
He probably hadn't fired a gun in his life — didn't need to. His real talent was people. In Night City, he was a big-shot in every sense of the word: mass and status.
And to Vash's question, he answered with a kind of blunt honesty that was… strangely pleasant.
Vash smiled, "Working with a top-tier fixer like you doesn't sound bad at all, Mr. DeShawn."
Dexter laughed, deep and easy, "Before I met you, Mr. V, I was wonderin' if you'd live up to the name." He spread his hands slightly, "Now? Looks like Night City's been underrating you."
Vash was impressed by Dexter's smooth talk — but DeShawn was even more impressed by Vash. It didn't feel like he was dealing with some ordinary trigger-happy merc.
More like a legend out of the old stories — someone like Morgan Blackhand.
"Alright." Dexter said, "Time for biz."
He slid over a shard.
In 2077, everyone had a shard reader built in. Vash took the shard and slotted it into the neural port at the back of his head. The job brief unfolded clean and sharp across his HUD.
"Prototype tech." Dexter said, "Biochip. You grab it for me. Simple as that."
Vash already knew, but he still clicked his tongue, "Mr. DeShawn… this is Arasaka property."
"That's right. Arasaka." Dexter's voice stayed calm, "And I don't think it'll be too difficult for you, Mr. V."
Vash: "You flatter me. But Arasaka's got fingers in every corner of Night City. Picking a fight with them is like throwing eggs at a concrete wall."
Dexter: "What can I say, Mr. V? High risk, high reward. That's rule number one at the Afterlife."
He tapped ash, unhurried.
"And I'm not a gonk. I got arrangements. No loose ends. This needs to happen clean. No trace. You understand?"
Vash: "Got it. Talk me through the plan."
Dexter: "First, I got a little mess with the Maelstrom boys that needs sorting."
Sure enough — right on script.
Vash skimmed the Maelstrom file on the shard, then pinged Friday to copy everything relevant.
"How do we handle Maelstrom?" Vash asked.
"The usual." Dexter said, "Two weeks ago, some gangoons hit a Militech transport convoy and walked off with the cargo. Militech doesn't know it was Maelstrom. Among the stolen gear is a little combat bot—Flathead (Militech MT0D12). Prototype. Top-shelf. I want it.
Problem is, the original deal was through Brick — Maelstrom's old boss." He let the word hang, "Emphasis on Old. Royce put him down and took over. Whether Royce honors Brick's deal? Could go either way. But we got one lever. Meredith Stout. Transport crew."
Vash nodded, "Alright. That's enough." He tapped the glass, "Pull over up ahead."
Dexter sounded pleased, "I'll set you up with Evelyn Parker. But the Flathead—how you play Maelstrom is on you."
"No need." Vash said, "Don't arrange anything. I'll handle it myself. Just have the eddies ready."
With that, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the street.
Inside the limo, the driver Oleg — who'd been listening the whole time — finally spoke up, "Mr. DeShawn… isn't that guy a little too cocky? You think he's reliable?"
Dexter exhaled cigar smoke and chuckled, "Experts come with attitude. If he pulls it off, we do business again. If he doesn't… Maelstrom'll make him regret it. Either way — we lose nothing."
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T/N: Comment, give me Power Stones, like and favorite, it all supports me and makes me go foward with this. Appreciate my other stories as well, I guarantee the good work!
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