Chapter 24: Mr. Janus, Please Accept This Gift from Maine's Crew
Nighttime in Heywood.
Bordering the City Center, with landmarks like Corpo Plaza and the central shopping district just a stone's throw away, Heywood was, in a very real sense, the heart of Night City. This prime location had transformed it into one of the city's most affluent districts.
Unlike the decaying buildings, abandoned lots, and derelict industrial zones of Santo Domingo, Heywood boasted luxury residences, high-end malls, and lavish hotels. This was exactly why 6th Street was constantly trying to punch into Heywood, desperate to rip territory away from the Valentinos.
The Santa Teresa Condominiums, one of Heywood's signature luxury high-rises, was equipped with a state-of-the-art smart-home AI and a full security detail.
Inside apartment 1503, a man with a black cyber-arm sat on his sofa. He was about 170cm, with a lean build. Half of his face was polished metal, the other half pale flesh. This was Janus, the fixer. His street name came from his two-faced appearance.
He sat there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching a news broadcast. He was also in the middle of a heated call.
"Stop feeding me that bullshit. I told you to get me the hell out of the city, now. Do you not understand me?"
"What? What do you mean I screwed it up?"
"Mr. Barton, it wasn't like that. If you were in my position, would you have ever guessed those mercs could actually pull it off? We had over twenty gangers, plus netrunners! That's 6th Street for you!"
His face twisted in disgust. "They kept telling me they were sending trained soldiers. Trained? You call that trained? This is not on me!"
"Go to Rogue? You think I didn't try?" he spat, his voice rising. "I called her this afternoon, and she just chewed me out! Said I broke the code first, and if I get zeroed, it's my own damn fault. She's not taking my eddies, and she's not backing my play. You get it?"
"I'm not afraid of those mercs! They're just a bunch of rookies! That Maine guy has some chrome, but that's it. My building's security will tear them apart if they're dumb enough to try. I'm afraid of Arasaka! Arasaka! Who the hell asked you to take out Maine's crew?"
"You motherfucker! So being nice gets me nowhere, is that it? Fine! Let's all go down together! I've got plenty of data on you. If Arasaka gets their hands on me, you think you're walking away from this clean?"
"You don't just burn your assets like this!"
He slammed his cyber-arm onto the metal coffee table, his face a mask of fury.
After ending the call, Janus stood up. The moment he did, his apartment's internal alarm blared, and a voice feed from his private security detail patched in, reporting the situation.
"They really dared to come?" A cold sneer spread across his face. Fucking gonks. Do these mercs really think you can survive in this biz on balls alone? They actually thought they could get revenge on him? Did they think he was a soft target like those 6th Street blowhards?
As a mid-level fixer, Janus had top-of-the-line security. On top of that, the Santa Teresa was a luxury residence, and the building's management employed ex-military security. If those mercs tried to force their way up, they were signing their own death warrants. They wouldn't even get a look at him before they flatlined.
He picked up a glass of champagne, a smirk on his face.
Just then, a massive explosion from below drew him to the window. He looked down and saw the main entrance of the Santa Teresa in flames. Squinting, his optical zoom engaged, and he could just make out Maine himself, trading fire with the building's security from behind a wrecked car.
"Idiots!" Janus burst out laughing, taking a gleeful sip of champagne. The sour mood from his earlier call vanished. As for the firefight downstairs... what did that have to do with him? He didn't care if his entire security team was wiped out. After this clusterfuck, his career in Night City was over anyway.
He needed to grab his essentials and get out of the city, fast. He'd already spent the afternoon transferring his eddies to secure accounts at Orbital Bank and Rothschild. His life as a fixer was done. Rogue herself had put the word out: any merc in Night City who took a gig from him would be blacklisted from the Afterlife.
Rogue. The Queen of the Afterlife.
Wakako in Japantown was a major player, right? Rumor was even the boss of the Tyger Claws had to bow and scrape in her presence, even thank her for a slap across the face. But when Rogue got pissed, even Wakako had to bow her head and eat shit.
In Night City, you could cross a corpo, but you did not cross Rogue.
People said there were no living legends in Night City. Wasn't Rogue a living legend? She was the psycho-bitch who'd helped Johnny Silverhand bomb Arasaka Tower. And after all that, not only did Arasaka not zero her, she'd become the single biggest fixer in the entire city.
So when she spoke, you listened. Janus had no choice but to run.
With that thought, he ignored the rising sounds of chaos from below and walked into his bathroom. He'd take a shower, put on some fresh clothes, and then try to contact an extractor, see who could get him out of the city.
He stepped in front of the mirror. He had a habit: before showering, he always shaved the organic half of his face.
But as he looked up, he saw a figure in a baseball cap standing behind him in the reflection.
His pupils contracted. He stared at the figure in the mirror. The figure looked up, and under the brim of the cap, Janus saw a pair of clean, sharp eyes, a straight nose, and thin lips. The reflection was looking calmly back at him.
Janus slowly looked down, pretending he hadn't seen anything. His hand crept towards a cabinet by the sink. There was a pistol hidden inside.
"If I were you, I'd raise my hands. Not reach for a weapon."
The young Asian man's voice was soft.
A red-and-black katana was suddenly pressed against Janus's side.
"Arasaka-made thermal katana," the voice continued, pleasant and calm. "Even if you were a full-borg, this blade would slice right through you."
A large bead of sweat rolled down Janus's temple. He swallowed hard and slowly raised both hands. "You're an Arasaka agent? Don't kill me! I have intel on Night Corp. Their information manager has been..."
"You seem to be mistaken, Mr. Janus." The man shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I have no connection to Arasaka."
"Then you're..." A new, more primal fear dawned on him. "I can pay you! Don't kill me! My eddies are all in the bank. You spare my life, I'll give you everything!"
Maine's crew...
This was one of Maine's crew!
Fuck, how did he get up here? What the hell was the building's security doing? How did they let a live hostile just walk into his apartment?
The man shook his head again. He gripped the katana with one hand, and with the other, he reached up and tugged the brim of his cap down, his voice still quiet. "I don't want your eddies, Mr. Janus."
"I want your life."
As the words finished, Janus felt a searing heat at his waist. He looked in the mirror and saw the thermal blade slide clean through his body. And then, he heard the last words he would ever hear.
"Mr. Janus, please accept this gift from Maine's crew."
"Sweet dreams."
In a daze, Janus watched the reflection. The man turned, flicked the blood from his blade with a stylish, sharp motion, and walked towards the open balcony window.
"You... mother... fucker..." Janus gurgled, blood filling his mouth.
He... he climbed...
"..."
Janus, a man who had clawed his way up in Night City, who had spent years building a name for himself, who had even managed to get his hooks into a corporation. His story ended here, naked and in two pieces, on his own bathroom floor.