The sun dipped behind the high-rises, casting the city in a red glow. I sat on my bike, thinking over Rodrigo's offer.
"Seventy thousand credits, huh…" I muttered.
It was a lot of money, and even if it was dangerous, I could see myself taking it. Still, I wanted a few nights to think it over. No rushing in.
I decided to take it easy that evening. There's a little bar on the edge of the city I drop by from time to time. The Perfect place for tonight. I rode over, parked, locked up, and stepped inside. A small place, but it had charm.
"Spike, long time no see," greeted Mike, the bartender—an older guy. "The usual?"
"Yep. Virgin Mojito," I replied, sitting at the counter.
"Still not drinking alcohol, huh?" he said, more as a statement than a question.
The walls were covered in old posters and photos, giving the place a nostalgic vibe.
They even had a jukebox—Mike once told me it was a real antique from the '90s. Still amazes me it works, even after 52 years. And if it doesn't, just give it a kick—at least, that's what Mike says.
As I sipped my drink, I looked around. Not much going on: a few regulars, some new faces. A group of young people, maybe students, laughing in one corner, and a lone man in a suit sipping his drink quietly at another table. Nothing out of the ordinary.
"You look thoughtful, Spike. Something on your mind?"
I took another sip and sighed. "Just this new job Rodrigo offered me. Seventy thousand credits, but apparently dangerous."
Mike, my one and only favorite bartender, listened patiently as always. "That's a lot of money. But be careful—this city's full of people who'd sell you out for far less."
"True," I agreed. "But sometimes you've gotta take risks if you want to get anywhere."
"Well, whatever you decide, watch yourself. This city can be merciless. I'd hate to lose a customer like you—not many like you around."
"Not sure if that's a good or bad thing," I said with a half-smile, but nodded and finished my drink. "Thanks, Mike. I'll be careful."
As the bar grew livelier, I figured it was time to head out. I paid the 34 credits for the drink, said goodbye, and stepped into the cool night air.
I rode aimlessly through the streets. The mix of smog and neon lights gave the city a surreal glow. After an hour or two of riding, enjoying the cold wind, I headed to my favorite spot overlooking the city—a high point near a bridge, beside a river that shimmered turquoise. That shimmer came from the Arasaka Tower explosion years ago, when the fire spread to one of the city's nuclear reactors. Two disasters in one night.
The blast poisoned the river but also made it strangely beautiful. Those events were a big part of the economic crash two years back.
Thinking about what happened five years ago, I sighed deeply. I needed to clear my head. Lighting another cigarette, I wondered if I should take Rodrigo's job. I didn't want prison—or worse—but truth be told, there weren't many who'd care if I died.
Looking out over the sparkling lights, I decided I'd take it. Dangerous or not, it was worth the risk. I'd never forgive myself if I passed it up. For that much money, the client had to be someone influential. Maybe this was my shot at a better life—even if my current one wasn't all that bad.
I flicked the cigarette away, climbed onto my bike, and rode home. Decision made. Tomorrow, I'd tell Rodrigo I was in. But first, some rest.