Eastkan, 2125

In the alleys of the dusty city of Eastkan on that cold night, the desperate screams of a man echoed, presumably in pure terror. He pleaded for his life, abruptly interrupted by several silent flashes of light easily visible from the large warehouse window.

The flashes of light came from the silent weapon of Beta, one of the mercenaries, who fired multiple times at the man, leaving him lying and completely surrendered to death on the floor of that small room, his weak breath gradually fading away.

— Now, why did you have to do that? — Alpha questioned, appearing to be the group leader, surprised by his companion's actions.

— Did you hear what happened to the last squad, right?

— Are you an idiot? — it didn't sound like a question.

— As if you cared about a few dead freaks.

— Listen. You want to get paid, don't you? Next time, try following my orders. Now, see if the big guy there has anything important on him. I'll look for evidence, as dead people aren't interrogatable. — Alpha said, with a cold and subtle tone.

Beta sighed upon hearing his companion; the young man seemed to have no regrets for what he had just done. He approached the man lying on the floor next to the bed and searched his pockets, hoping to find something useful or valuable. In vain.

— The bastard has nothing useful. Nothing but underwear. — he stated sarcastically.

On the other side of the bed, there was a girl who also seemed to be dead, completely naked, lying on the floor with her back against a dresser next to the messy double bed.

— Look, this one could pass for a human. Now I wonder, what was her deal. — Alpha said, pointing to the woman's body. The mercenary seemed to have extensive knowledge in distinguishing between robots and humans.

Beta didn't question, just stood up and walked calmly to the other side of the bed where the girl was. The hum of a phone on the dresser began to intensify; it seemed to be a message, capturing the mercenaries' attention.

— Looks like we're in luck. Look who's calling. Check the name.

— You must be kidding me. — Beta murmured, taking hold of the phone, about to view the received message. The name and number seemed to be exactly who they had in mind, "Willow D.," the target of the mercenaries' mission.

"Guys, where are you? Claire is about to take the stage. Hurry up. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold a table at 86?" the audio said, conveying a smooth yet nervous voice.

— 86? — Beta asked.

— Club 86. A club in the city center. Let's go. Time to cash in the check. — Alpha said, holding his weapon, seemingly excited about the unfolding situation.

Club 86 is bustling; it seems to be an important night for the bar, much like any other night. Waiters struggle to attend to all the tables as people routinely fill such places to try and forget their own lives for a few moments.

— Take your seats and don't forget your drinks. The show will begin shortly. — echoed a mysterious feminine voice throughout the venue's sound system.

Amidst the enthusiastic crowd was a young girl, alone and with a distressed air. She sighed while scanning the bar, seemingly unable to find what she was looking for. Then, she simply hid her face with her bangs while looking down.

Ladies and gentlemen!

You already know her!

You love her!

CLAIRE HENDRICKSON!

The night's attraction is the beautiful singer Claire Hendrickson, who confidently takes the stage, seemingly unafraid and extremely confident in the audience's reception, which had been applauding and making noise even before that mysterious feminine voice began announcing the singer. Her signature gestures were already known to the audience; the left arm raised high, with the index and middle fingers extended. The crowd went wild the moment she appeared from behind the curtains.

— How are you all tonight?! Ready for some fun? — the charming young woman encouraged into the microphone, with her captivating, slanted, and highly attractive eyes scanning the audience. She observed each of the guys and girls approaching to worship her.

— This is one of my favorites from my first album. Come on, guys! — Claire exclaimed into the microphone, becoming increasingly comfortable as the song began to play. The echoes of that infectious sound resonated throughout the bar. People increasingly stood from their seats and started to gather near the stage.

From the stage, she soon noticed a strange commotion: Three masked and armed men entered through the front door of the bar without any trouble, prompting her to take a few steps back, distancing herself from the microphone instantly.

— The girl is here somewhere. Spread out! — Alpha commanded, wielding his weapon at the nightclub's entrance alongside his two teammates.

— Willow Dane! Show yourself! — Beta shouted so loudly that it interrupted the music in the venue, followed by an instant silence throughout Club 86.

The audience immediately turned around, noticing the commotion: the three black-clad men with shiny helmets and weapons. The crowd erupted in chaos when they saw one of them pointing the gun at everyone present. The weapon was a golden submachine gun with a red laser sight—a trademark of the Specters, a group of mercenaries known throughout the region.

— There she is! — Alpha shouted, pointing at the table in the corner of the nightclub.

— Sorry, kid. Nothing personal. — Beta mumbled to himself as he aimed his weapon at the young girl, cautiously approaching her.

The young girl seemed scared as she noticed the mercenary's steps, and rightfully so. Despite the frightened expression, she lowered her head without making sudden movements, seeming sure of what she was about to do.

The lights suddenly went out, followed by the despair and screams of everyone present who began to want to leave the venue immediately in a rush.

— Hey... What the hell is... — one of the mercenaries shouted, alarmed.

— NO! WAIT! What the hell are you?! — Beta exclaimed, followed by countless shots in the dark that further scared the civilians present amidst the chaos. Even in the darkness, the panic and desperation could be seen amid the flashes of light from those shots.

The screams erupted as people fled through the emergency exits of the nightclub. The girl descended the stairs stumbling. She barely noticed the panic around her. In shock, she ran as fast as she could away from Club 86. The screams behind her were soon accompanied by police sirens.

— No... I have to keep... running... — the young girl is breathless, seeming to have no more strength to run. With almost no balance, she stumbles and falls. The girl faints in the cold alleys of Eastkan.

The news would soon spread throughout the city. Tabloids would relentlessly post about the incident. Rumors upon rumors would suck the tragedy dry to the last grain.

The police would cover everything up, and only a few would truly know what had happened in that nightclub. Either way, it had been another night of tragedies for many families in Eastkan, the paradise that never sleeps.

The city is in full swing that night. Viktor just wanted to keep walking and head to the Afterlife without distractions, as the alley was only a few blocks away. The glow from the huge advertising screens scattered throughout the city seemed to bother him; he always averted his gaze from all that brightness as much as he could, and also because of the vulgar ads they contained. He probably hated the place, and it showed in his expression. The streets were dirty and filled with graffiti and litter everywhere.

— Watch where you're going, pal!

Ironically, the man in extravagant clothes who bumped into Viktor for not paying attention to where he was going, while he was just walking in the opposite direction, trying to avoid as much of that brightness as possible. People cared little about each other.

Upon reaching the location, a massive reinforced iron gate decorated with graffiti of various colors and drawings, as well as LED lights and cameras all around the entrance.

— Viktor Ruiz here. Let me in.

— Please stand still for an identification check. — says a voice echoing from a small communication device built next to the gate.

— Alright. Hurry up.

— Identification confirmed. Welcome to Afterlife, Mister... Vi... Viktor Ruiz.

The gate emits a loud metallic sound, as if it had been unlocked from the inside, and starts to open slowly. Without thinking twice, he enters.

Quickly crossing the club, it was possible to see how crowded it was. People danced extravagantly and wildly, the music was contagious, there was no denying it, Viktor was passionate about electronic music, but for some reason, at that moment, on that night, he seemed not to care about what was happening around him. He just walked straight to the meeting point; the side of the club, a bit away from the noise.

Seeing Claire Hendrickson sitting on one of the red sofas in the place, Viktor approaches, seeming to be suspicious of the whole situation. He didn't seem to be the foolish type; all that VIP area without a single living soul except Claire didn't seem right, as the club was full.

— You called me here at the last minute, in the middle of the night. Am I going to get some explanation? — says him.

— Just... come over here. — she whispers, as if warning the guy to keep his voice down.

He sits next to the girl.

— I'm glad you wasn't late. — she whispers again.

— And I hope you didn't call me for another theft and capture job. — he retorts provocatively.

— Listen. It's not my fault you're so picky. I need this too. You keep refusing jobs and it affects both of us. If you stopped refusing at least the easy ones, maybe things would be diff... — Claire is interrupted.

— I just won't go after another runaway with unresolved daddy issues.

— I know the father in this one. I guarantee you, he's not involved... Do you want to take a look at the job, or will you keep acting like the responsible one for Noah's Ark?

Viktor nods while staring at the young girl. He seems a bit disappointed, but Claire knew that lately, that was his usual expression.

— Details are scarce, but it's what I have.

Claire takes a digital notebook from her black leather jacket and hands it to Viktor, containing all relevant information about the target. Both start to scrutinize the notes carefully.

— A runaway? What the hell did I just say, Claire? She's just a girl.

— Viktor, read, please... This one is personal.

— Last night, a group of Specters tried to capture a woman during a concert... It was a total panic. No one knows exactly what happened, but when it was over, the three Specters were dead and the girl was nowhere to be found. Yes! Like fuckin' magic. — she recounts, pointing out all the details on the digital notebook screen.

— Any external help?

— I have no idea. But my guess is we were hired to find out.

— That sounded like a shitty gig, you know? — he looks at Claire and lets out a long sigh.

— Yes, and right in your path. — she says provocatively, getting excited as she looks at him.

— Club 86... That name isn't strange. Wait a sec... Wasn't that the place where you used to perform? — he asks after a moment of silence.

— Not anymore... Not after the incident, and I guess that makes me a full-time fixer now. — she shrugs.

Specters receive contracts through third parties, known as Fixers. They are responsible for contacting the creators of the job, avoiding putting the Specters' anonymity at risk.

— And you can't sing somewhere else?

— You know that's not going to happen. — she responds, straightforward.

Viktor puts one of his hands on Claire's shoulder; he seems to understand the situation. Being a singer was like an escape valve for her; when she was younger, it was also one of her numerous dreams that were set aside amidst the difficulties that world could offer.

— Hey... I'm sorry, Claire.

— Don't worry about it. And stop trying to change the subject; sometimes it doesn't work as much as you imagine. — she asserts, in a tone of irony, staring at him.

After a few moments in total silence.

— This has bad news written all over it. Like, who's financing it? Where do I take her when I find her? There are so many unanswered questions here. — he says.

— It has always worked this way. Come on, just for once, take the job! — she exclaims, clenching one of her hands and slamming it forcefully on the table, causing some noise, for the first time that night she was about to lose patience with him.

— I'll think about it. I just need one night... I just need one night of sleep. — he says in a sleepy voice, and yawns.

He gets up with the digital notebook in one hand and a glass of old Scotch in the other, placing it on the table, seeming about to head home.

— Don't overthink it; we need this money. I need this money.

— Alright... Alright. Good night, Claire.

The hours pass, a night that seems to have no end as it unfolds. Viktor arrives at his apartment, the lights off, and the hovering silence were inviting signs for a good sleep. As usual, he lies down on the couch and is about to fall into a deep sleep when he is surprised by a feminine voice. Yes, another feminine voice, whispering his name, which startles him, literally quite startled to the point of widening his eyes unexpectedly and shouting.

— Ciri, turn on the lights! — he commands.

The Artificial Intelligence responsible for home security responds immediately, turning on the lights in the room simultaneously.

— Well. If it isn't the sperm dumpster. — the woman says, with a smile on her face.

It was Kristin Sierra, his longtime colleague, they also maintained a relationship until recently. A beautiful woman with tied black hair, green eyes, and dressed entirely in black. She wields a submachine gun in one hand, her faithful work companion, while looking at Victor, who seems a bit uncomfortable on the couch with the situation.

— Sierra! What the hell is this!? What's your problem!?

— You look a bit pale, more than usual. — Kristin retorts.

He just sighs, taking a deep breath to try to control his breathing, still startled.

Kristin soon notices the bandages on his body and laughs, not even trying to contain the laughter for herself.

— Sorry.

— You never change, huh? Always waiting for the perfect time to barge in? — Viktor questions, not necessarily sounding like a question. He watches her from bottom to top, seeming suspicious of the girl's presence.

— That's what ex-girlfriends do, or whatever we are now. — she replies.

— How did you get in?

— Your artificial intelligence let me in. — Kristin says, while taking a small packet of white pills from her pocket and putting it in her mouth. She offers it to Victor but is promptly refused. She observes every facial tic of Viktor with a smile, as if she had known him for years, and she indeed did.

The conversation was interrupted by a few seconds of silence; Viktor seems confused, but when he is about to say something, he is interrupted by Kristin.

— Kidding. I stopped by because I heard a rumor that you're becoming a recluse. That you're basically out of the game now.

— And how do you know that? — he asks.

— Remember when I tracked down that stupid drug dealer in nearly five different places around the world? Do you think keeping tabs on my boyfriend is hard? — she retorts, seemed to have the answer on the tip of her tongue, proud of herself.

— I don't remember being out of the game. I'm just being selective.

— Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness. I didn't know you were above honest work. — she says, with an ironic smile while interlacing her hands, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her chin on her fists, observing Victor from bottom to top.

— It's just that...

— What? — Kristin interrupts and questions. — I don't want to see you turning into a big-mouthed coward. Come on! Accept at least a few jobs. It'll be worth it. — she asserts, giving Viktor's leg a light tap in an encouraging tone.

— I have a contract in hand... But something just doesn't feel right this time.

— Yeah, I know. — she confirms. — That's why they want you. You know this contract isn't a simple snatch and grab. Whatever it is, it's big. I've crossed paths with half a dozen fixers telling me about this job since I came back to the city. I'm sure. It's all connected, one thing leads to another.

— I need a whole night to rest and think about it. — he says, lying back on the couch again; you could hear the sigh throughout the room.

— Look, I didn't come here to kiss your balls. I just want the best for you. Besides, if we land competing contracts, I'll finally get to kick your ass. — Kristin assures, as if she wanted to leave an obvious opening, getting up from the couch. — Take care.

— You don't need to tell me twice. — Viktor says, watching her walk away to the exit door. She managed to make him more thoughtful than ever. Obviously, there were more questions than answers.

The long night had Victor questioning all his thoughts. This seemed to be a job he was excited about... It felt different. Nevertheless, he knew, at times, the life of a bounty hunter could be dangerous and ungrateful.

It was still early when he decided to get out of bed. The alarm clock beeped and emitted an annoying morning sound, while the Artificial Intelligence informed him of the time, it was 7:21. He always hated waking up early, but he had gotten used to it.

The device rings; it's a video call from the infamous representative of Weyland Industries' interests. The name saved in the contact is Tereza Wam.

Viktor doesn't seem very surprised; previous events had already led him to imagine such a possibility. He answers the call.

— The sunlight is shining here, and I hope it is for you too, Agent Ruiz. — Tereza says, seeming captivated to see him on the other side of the screen.

— When Sierra showed up yesterday, I knew I would see that unpleasant face of yours again. Are you the one behind this whole thing? It seems to be something important.

— As always, you're trying to be in complete control of the situation, even when you strive so hard not to be. — Tereza says, with a bitter smile and a slow tone of voice, but she doesn't seem to have an accent from any specific place. Without diverting her attention from the screen, she continues to speak. — You are correct, Agent. This is important. Due to recent events, I want you to come to the Weyland Industries headquarters in person so we can discuss this matter with the proper attention and clarity, as soon as possible.

— Tricky. Seeing your face makes me want to accept this job even less. — he murmurs with an unpleasant expression.

— Don't look at me like that, Agent. Let's not forget that you still have one more job scheduled in the contract. — Tereza asserts, without losing her composure and with a captivating, calm, and at the same time, intimidating smile.