In the afternoon, the sunlight was still bright and dazzling.
Riding a Delamain cab, Lin Mo and Jackie didn't need long to reach the Afterlife.
They stepped out into the parking lot. Behind them, the Delamain taxi sat quietly in its slot like the most loyal of bodyguards.
Even with the whole drive over,
even with all that time to calm down,
Jackie still hadn't managed it.
As he climbed out, his face was all barely-contained excitement.
If he hadn't been forcing himself to hold back that bubbling thrill in his chest,
he probably would've started dancing right there between the cars.
Even so, the big guy from Heywood still moved like he had a nightclub beat in his bones—
hips twitching now and then, tossing a few excited comments at Lin Mo,
happy as a kid about to walk up on stage at school to accept an award,
heart bursting with pride.
Lin Mo could only shake his head helplessly.
The mask on his face did a fine job of hiding his eyes—
he'd put on the oni mask in the cab specifically to conceal his identity.
Maybe every person has a bit of child in them deep down,
and as they grow up, that childishness just…
turns into different kinds of traits.
Even someone like Jackie—this big tough Heywood bruiser—
could still have a moment this adorable.
That guy who, in the game, was always at the protagonist's side,
the foul-mouthed guardian angel—
even he would get all tense and honest like a kid riding a roller coaster.
Only when they reached the entrance did Jackie finally get his emotions mostly under control,
though his tongue was still going a mile a minute as he told Lin Mo his story:
"The Afterlife, man… I dunno how long I've been dreaming about this place.
I used to lie awake imagining walking in here, chatting with the big dogs,
picking up the fattest contracts, and raking in eddies like crazy.
Then I'd retire, yeah? Go home and let my mamá live like a queen…
Hey, Lin Mo, you listening to me? You think that dream of mine sounds kinda crude?"
Lin Mo walked along the inside of the stairwell, fingers brushing the concrete handrail.
Rough, but worn smooth by countless hands.
It wasn't hard to imagine that nearly everyone who walked down these steps
did exactly what he was doing now—
reached out to touch, each with their own mood.
Some, like Jackie now, came down full of big dreams.
Others, like Jackie once had been,
came down full of envy and regret.
"Milk will come. Bread will come.
Everything you're dreaming about?
One day you'll have it all.
That's a promise, Jackie—and I don't go back on my word.
But you seem to be forgetting something.
I don't hear Misty anywhere in that grand plan of yours."
Lin Mo smiled calmly.
To let Jackie savor the moment a bit longer,
he deliberately slowed his pace,
turning a short flight of stairs into a long descent.
"Oh, shit, right—almost forgot about that girl. She's gonna be the death of me, man.
Once we make it big, no way I'm leaving her out.
And we can't forget old Vik, either. He's always telling me,
'You strike it rich, don't forget the folks who had your back.'
I still remember that, clear as day." Jackie beamed.
"Yeah. He told me the same thing," Lin Mo replied.
Talking as they walked, they reached the bottom and stepped into the short corridor.
Even this early in the afternoon, the Afterlife was full of life.
A bunch of regular mercs lingered in the hallway,
smoking, killing time, looking like they were waiting for something—or someone.
The air was thick and murky.
Through the haze, Jackie's eyes roved over the people loitering there,
and the feeling in his chest swelled even more.
Once upon a time, he'd been one of them.
Hanging around out front hoping to get lucky.
And just like them, all he'd gotten was shut out.
A merc who can't make a name for themselves is never getting past that door.
At best, they play the role of hired muscle outside—
the boss goes in through the door,
they stay out here watching the sky turn from gold to black.
At the door, Lin Mo once again ran into the big guy on bouncer duty.
The man was nearly Jackie's size,
all thick arms and broad chest—
standing in front of Lin Mo, he even had a bit of height on him.
As Lin Mo approached, the man shifted to one side,
his gaze sliding past him to the sunny grin on Jackie's face behind.
"Your newbie?" the bouncer asked.
"Yeah. Regina introduced him personally," Lin Mo said evenly.
When it came to a ticket into the Afterlife,
it all boiled down to your rep and your connections.
If a merc built a strong enough name,
then they naturally earned the right to walk in here.
People like that were usually the cream of the crop.
For those who never quite managed to break through,
the only option left was to pull strings—
get a respected fixer to vouch for you,
or receive a direct invitation.
But in the end, it all came down to the same thing—
whether this merc was worth the "big dogs'" time.
And those who got in by a fixer's invitation
came in wearing that fixer's label.
They weren't just walking into a bar—
they were walking onto a stage where the fixer was silently announcing:
"This one's mine."
The bouncer studied Jackie for a moment longer,
then stepped aside again without a word.
His memory was excellent—
anyone with a cognitive implant had a good memory.
He remembered the masked "young man" in front—
this wasn't his first time here.
As for the guy behind him,
since Regina had put her name on him,
there was no problem.
And he doubted Lin Mo would be dumb enough
to casually toss around a famous fixer's name.
"Thanks, man." Jackie grinned as he slipped past with Lin Mo,
into the bar he'd always dreamed of entering.
The bouncer ignored his thanks,
still standing there like an iron pillar.
…
The moment they walked inside, the pounding music hit their ears.
Jackie, walking beside him, couldn't help but hum along,
his eyes roaming the bar like he'd rehearsed this scene in his head a hundred times.
Lin Mo scanned the room but didn't see Rogue anywhere.
The two of them made their way to the bar.
"Two new faces, huh. What can I get you two?
Mr. Inkshade… and our friend with the man-bun?"
The bartender, Claire, came over just then,
apparently in a good mood.
"Two Old Fashioned tequilas—
and spike it with some beer and chili," Jackie said smoothly.
"Someone's done their homework, I see.
All right, one Johnny Silverhand.
And you? What'll it be?" Claire turned to Lin Mo.
Lin Mo pointed at Jackie and smiled. "Same as him."
"Got it. Coming right up."
Claire bent down to grab bottles and mixers,
her hands moving with practiced ease.
"Look at you, choom—you've clearly been here in your head a lot," Jackie chuckled.
"Check it out—most of the stuff on this menu?
Every name is a Night City legend.
What we're drinking?
These are the drinks they used to order.
Think about it like that and it hits different, yeah?
Feels like we're halfway to being legends ourselves."
"But the end of every legend is a grave, Jackie."
Lin Mo smiled faintly, meaning heavy behind the words.
"Yeah… true enough.
Death's just the last blaze of glory," Jackie nodded.
In the space of just a few sentences, Claire had already finished mixing the drinks
and slid two glasses toward them.
"Here you go, boys."
"C'mon, hermano—this one's for you."
Jackie raised his glass, grinning from ear to ear.
Lin Mo smiled as well, lifted his own,
and their glasses clinked.
Both downed the drinks in one go.
"So this is what legend tastes like…" Jackie sighed,
setting his glass back down.
His gaze drifted to the cocktail list lying on the bar,
and on a whim he blurted out:
"Hey, I'm Jackie Wells.
You wanna put a recipe of mine on the menu?"
He looked at Claire as he spoke.
Claire chuckled, amused. "Sure, go for it. Tell me the mix.
I always remember what my regulars like."
Lin Mo's eyes flickered.
For a moment it was like he was back in front of his computer,
playing through the game again…
Jackie opened his mouth,
and Lin Mo silently mouthed the words along in his heart:
"One part vodka, on ice,
lime juice, and ginger beer!"
"Oh, and the most important bit…
you gotta add a little love!"
Claire was completely charmed by Jackie's enthusiasm.
Still smiling, she said:
"All right. I'll remember it."
Watching all this, Lin Mo didn't say a word to stop it.
Sorry, Jackie…
but this time, your drink's probably never going to make it onto that menu.
Now that he was in this world himself,
no way was he going to stand by and watch Jackie die in front of him.
As that thought flickered through his mind,
Jackie seemed to notice Lin Mo's gaze.
He turned, met his eyes, and like something clicked,
his own eyes lit up.
"Almost forgot about you, man—
Lin… cough, hermano.
You're not gonna leave it at that, are you?
This is a golden chance right here.
I know you didn't use to drink,
but you're used to it now, aren't you?
Don't you wanna come up with a drink that's just yours?"
Claire looked over as well, interested.
"Yeah, Mr. Inkshade.
You've never asked me to mix a drink you actually like,
and you've never given me a recipe.
What's the story?
Did you just not like alcohol before?"
"I really didn't, back then," Lin Mo said simply.
But inside, something stirred.
He did have the simulator.
Odds were, he wasn't dying anytime soon.
A recipe only got your name on the board after you were gone anyway—
so it probably wasn't happening for him.
So… do I leave one or not?
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