Meredith hesitated, then tapped her brooch. The little bug went dark.
The displeasure on her face was obvious. A place like this motel was an insult to someone like her.
Militech execs lived in a different altitude — fine food, fine clothes, fine penthouses, armored transport. Having to slum it in this No-Tell Motel wasn't just uncomfortable; it was degrading.
The room itself was small, but the lighting tried too hard — gaudy and intimate — and the air was saturated with cheap "ambient" perfume that clung to the back of the throat.
Vash gestured to the chair, "Have a seat."
Meredith didn't move. She went straight for the throat, "Let's cut the fluff. You're saying Maelstrom hit a Militech transport team and the Flathead ended up in their hands. And you're telling me you can get it back — then strike a deal with me."
Vash nodded once, "I like dealing with smart people, Ms. Stout."
"Since I'm here…" Meredith said, "State your terms."
Vash kept it clinical, "Word is you oversee Militech logistics and transport. Which means you can get your hands on certain materials."
Meredith's eyes narrowed, "You want cyberware mods?"
Vash shook his head, "I want the raw stock — the materials used to make cyberware mods. All of it."
"Impossible." Meredith didn't even hesitate, "If you want finished mods — or Militech's newest cuberware — I can make that happen. But not the materials. Every batch is audited from warehouse out to warehouse in. If something goes missing, I'm the one who eats it."
Vash let the silence sit for a beat, then asked, "Tell me, Ms. Stout — what's the bigger problem? A shipment of materials… or the Flathead?"
Meredith's expression tightened.
The answer was obvious. Missing materials were a loss on a ledger. But the Flathead was bleeding-edge tech — complete, functional, and unique. If it landed in a competitor's hands, the fallout would be brutal.
"My fixer says you don't get the big payout without taking the big risk." Vash said, neatly dumping the blame onto Dexter's rules.
Meredith went quiet. She understood it now: from the moment she walked in, she wasn't negotiating from equal ground. The guy in front of her had already mapped her pressures and boxed her into a corner.
In the original run of things, mercs like V and Jackie were the ones gambling their lives for someone else's agenda.
Vash wasn't interested in playing that role. If he was going to move, it would be on his terms — under his control.
"Fine." Meredith said at last, "I'll provide the materials for cyberware mod fabrication. But the Flathead—"
Vash lifted a hand, cutting her off, "My rule is simple: neither side gets to see my full plan."
Meredith swallowed the rest, accepted the terms, and left the motel with a promise to deliver what he wanted.
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With that handled, Vash headed back to Viktor's clinic.
Viktor was doing minor tune-ups on Jackie. He didn't look up from the work, "V — moving tonight?"
"It's time." Vash said, "Otherwise our fixer starts getting twitchy."
"Good." Viktor handed over two boxes, "Then show them what you've got."
Vash took them, "What's this?"
"Top-shelf body armor." Viktor said, "And a little blocker that scrambles biometric scans — keeps people from pulling your profile off your face. Not expensive. Consider it a gift."
Jackie pushed himself upright on the chair, "That's a first, Vik. Thought you were a tightwad, choom."
Viktor snorted, "Jack, if I was a tightwad, your mountain of debt would've left you walking around without underwear."
He pulled a bottle of red from the fridge, poured three glasses, and slid them over.
"Maelstrom's a pack of lunatics. Wouldn't hurt the city if you taught them a lesson. Good luck, boys."
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They left the clinic, got in the car, and headed for the industrial sprawl in northern Watson.
On the way, they changed fast — suit-style body armor and sunglasses designed to foil biometric reads.
Men in Black, Night City edition.
Jackie drove while admiring himself in the mirror, "Damn… we look good, choom."
Vash didn't bother humoring him, "Wake me when we're there."
Then he shut his eyes.
With his eyes closed, he ran through the system's backlog — unclaimed check-ins from the past few days — then cashed them all at once.
『 Check-in successful! Host has obtained the 〈Perfect Sniper Rifle Nekomata〉! 』
The design matched the Nekomata from the game, but the performance and stats were on another level. System gear never came cheap.
The car left Watson's urban glare and pushed north. The farther they went, the fewer buildings remained — just dead streets and industrial husks.
Northside's industrial district had been abandoned decades ago. Maelstrom had squatted on it and turned the rot into a fortress. Their HQ was an old food-processing plant at the edge of the zone.
Under the moonlight, the car rolled straight onto the plant's grounds.
"V. We're here." Jackie said.
Vash opened his eyes, "Tonight's hunting season, Jack. Keep your eyes up."
Jackie grinned, "If they wanna start something, I'll pound 'em into the concrete, choom."
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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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That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)