Chương 14: Dude, Where's My Buccirati?

Zatrice stepped off the train, his mind still lingering on Tilly's smile. The station's harsh neon lights yanked him back to reality. He blinked, the brightness pressing against his chrome eyes as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, heading for the exit.

His phone buzzed. A message from Lenji: "Call me. Don't text."

Zatrice grimaced. "What does this asshole want now?" he muttered, spitting on the grimy sidewalk, yet curiosity got the best of him.

He activated the holo-call.

Lenji's grinning face materialized in the air before him, his purple hair glowing against the city's muted backdrop.

"What do you want?" Zatrice growled.

Lenji's smile widened, a grin that never quite reached his eyes. "Got a job for you."

"No." Zatrice's response was flat. "Remember the day you turned me down 'cause I was short? Well, I'm hanging up—"

"You killed my agent," Lenji cut in smoothly, his voice calm but pointed. "You're responsible for this mess, you're broke. Three leuros won't even get you cheap porn data."

Zatrice's jaw clenched. "I'm not getting involved, Lenji."

"Two million leuros."

Zatrice froze,that kind of money... It was the kind of money you didn't walk away from, the kind that could rewrite your entire life.

Lenji's voice broke the silence. "That's all you need to know for now. Meet me on my street. We'll talk." And with that, the call cut off.

Zatrice stood at the station's entrance, torn. The rusted-out shell of his apartment building loomed ahead, but beyond it, Lenji's turf waited in the dark. A familiar unease settled in his chest as he weighed his options.

Two million leuros.

"I can handle anything now," he muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing the chrome implant at his temple. With a sigh, he made his decision and set off toward Lenji's street.

An hour later, Zatrice found himself in a grimy alley, where addicts slumped against the walls, some vomiting, others lost in cheap VR trips. The scent of sweat and body fluids clung to the air.

He knocked on a shiny metal door. "It's me. Open up, Lenji."

Before he could take a step back, the door swung open, and a mountain of muscle grabbed him by the collar, dragging him inside. Zatrice stumbled into the dim glow of a small, dingy nightclub. Dancers swayed on stage, their eyes blank.

He shook himself free from the grip, shooting the bouncer a glare. Before he could say anything, Lenji's voice cut through the heavy bass of the club's music.

"Glad you could make it."

Lenji emerged from the shadows, purple and green hair, his expensive VR glasses glinting under the low lights.

He grinned, revealing unnaturally white teeth, Zatrice swallowed his irritation and sank into a chair, glaring at Lenji.

"Could you let me in normally next time?"

Lenji laughed, a brittle sound that set Zatrice on edge. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, Boris loves a dramatic entrance." Lenji reached over to kiss on the bouncer's cheek, Boris, in a pristine suit despite the club's filth, remained unmoving.

Zatrice shifted uncomfortably. "What's the job?"

Lenji leaned in, his smile sharp. "I need you to steal something for me. From one of the headmasters of Yorishika Towers specifically his villa."

Zatrice raised an eyebrow. "You want me to steal from a corpo rat?"

"Exactly." Lenji's tone oozed satisfaction.

"Why me? Plenty of others could pull this off quietly."

Lenji's eyes glinted as he tapped his tablet. "Quiet's not what I want, Zat. I want it bloody." He turned the screen toward Zatrice, showing footage of a massacre, Zatrice and Alistair, covered in blood, fending off an army of Jackals. "No one else fought the entire Jackal gang and lived."

Zatrice swallowed hard. "What am I stealing?"

"A car, a Buccirati, it was mine before that bastard took it." "How?" Lenji's face darkened. "Elquiring... Corpo rats can take anything you buy if they decide you 'don't deserve their stuff' I bought that car, and he just... took it."

Zatrice nodded slowly. "When?"

"Tomorrow night. He'll be home. I'll provide the car, a buddy, and guns." Lenji's voice dropped an octave. "Just one rule: don't kill the guy. He's got VIP status. His bodyguards? Fair game."

Zatrice frowned. "VIP? Why's that matter?"

Lenji's grin returned. "Kill him, and you'll have the army on your ass. I'm not bailing you out of that."

Zatrice sat back, nodding slowly. "Fine. I'll do it."

Lenji raised his glass, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "A toast, then! To Zatrice!"

The nightclub erupted in cheers, though Zatrice barely noticed, his thoughts churning beneath the noise. Lenji, ever the showman, gestured to the women around him. "Pick anyone you like. On the house."

"I'll pass." Zatrice stood, pulling his jacket tight. "I've got dinner with my sister."

Lenji's eyebrows shot up. "Sister? Beulla, right?"

Zatrice tensed at the mention of her name. "Yeah. Beulla."

Lenji chuckled darkly, and Zatrice didn't like the look that flickered across his face. "Tell you what, Zat—pull this off, and I'll throw in a bonus. Maybe a secret about dear Beulla."

Zatrice's eyes flashed with a sudden, dangerous intensity. "What do you know?"

Lenji just grinned. "Do the job, and maybe you'll find out."

Before Zatrice could react, Boris's massive hands closed around his collar, and he was tossed back onto the pavement outside. The nightclub door slammed shut behind him.

Zatrice exhaled sharply, pulling himself up, wiping the mud from his jacket. "Fuck you, Lenji."

As he started the long walk home, traffic horns growing by the seconds, he pulled up his music, drowning out the bluster of voices and traffic with heavy beats.

His phone buzzed again, and he glanced at the notification.

A new follower: "queen_of_balls_crushing."

Zatrice blinked. The profile picture showed Tilly, the blue-haired girl from the train. Her pink eyes seemed to sparkle even in the tiny image. He followed her back without hesitation, a smile breaking through his scowl.

After a long walk, Finally Zatrice reached his apartment. The elevator groaned as it carried him up to his floor. The door slid open with a familiar hiss.

"Beulla?" he called out, but the apartment was silent. Alistair lounged on the couch, a cigarette hanging from his lips, eyes glued to the screen.

On the table sat a covered meal and a note. Zatrice picked it up, his sister's handwriting standing out:

"Won't be home tonight. Work stuff. Enjoy the meal! :)"

Zatrice crumpled the paper, sighing. "Alistair," he said, approaching his friend. "Did you get anything on her work?"

Alistair exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Yes and no. She hit multiple corpo buildings today. Stayed exactly one hour, fourteen seconds at each."

Zatrice frowned. "Strange."

"Either she's covering her tracks, or it's one hell of a coincidence," Alistair mused.

Zatrice slumped beside him, rubbing his temples. "I got a job, too."

"Oh?" Alistair's tone was casual, but his eyes sharpened. "Is it good?"

"Yeah. a guy wants me to steal a car from a corpo."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "That so? What's the payout?"

"Two million leuros."

Alistair's cigarette fell from his lips.

"Two mil- Zat, my friend," he said slowly, "that sounds like a trap."

Zatrice blinked. "What? Why?"

"Think about it. What else did Lenji say?"

"He said he wants it bloody. Kill the bodyguards, but not the owner. The owner's got some kind of VIP status."

Alistair's frown deepened. "No one pays double the price of a car – even a Buccirati – for a simple theft. It doesn't add up." He leaned forward, his voice low.

"There's more to this job than Lenji's letting on. Something that makes it worth that kind of payout."

Zatrice's phone buzzed again, a message from Lenji interrupting their talks.

"Son of bitch…."