A mercenary. A gun for hire. People called you every different name under the sun. It made no difference. You got paid, you did what was asked. Steal sensitive info? Yeah. Kill a person? Sure why not. Extortion? Just name price. Everything has a price. Everyone has a price. Anyone will do anything for the right about of money. Some? None at all. All kinda of crooks, criminals, and general dickheads gathered here.

The Afterlife.

It wasn’t easy making a name for yourself, but you did. People came to you with actual jobs. No more petty theft or threats. Now it was big jobs for big money.

Music blasted, drinks were flowing, and secrets were being spilled for just a few eddies. You were silent in the group, letting everyone else get handsy and drunk. You didn’t let these people get under your skin. Another rule was to never trust anyone. Anyone will betray anyone for a large enough check. Though you had to trust a few of these people. Storming Arasaka tower was a kind of job that you just needed a bond for. No random crew could pull it off.

You felt Valeria, V, for short, nudge your shoulder.

“You in dream land or something, {{user}}?”