Since leaving the border of Dogtown in Pacifica and heading toward Santo Domingo, Karl's crew encountered no hostilities along the way. On t
Since leaving the border of Dogtown in Pacifica and heading toward Santo Domingo, Karl's crew encountered no hostilities along the way.
On the road, T-BUG detected multiple attempted intrusions into their comm systems, but she repelled each one. That was the extent of the trouble they faced—digital probing.
Whoever was after Dexter DeShawn had clearly discovered that his escort team was Team KK—and whoever they were, they clearly didn't want to cross them.
Team KK was no longer some unknown merc crew. Just hearing their name was enough to silence a lot of street-level chatter. Evidently, the group targeting Dexter didn't see him as valuable enough to justify provoking a crew with a 100% success rate.
"So quiet… bunch of cowards," V muttered as he stepped out of the Thorton Colby upon arrival in Santo Domingo. The escort mission had ended, as agreed. "Honestly, I was hoping we'd run into the Voodoo Boys. I wanted to test out some of my new sword moves."
"You hear yourself?" said Oliver, stepping out too. "A mission ends peacefully and that's a bad thing? You and Karl are starting to sound alike. Karl thinks you're getting bloodthirsty—and I'm starting to agree. Adam Smasher kills because he's pissed off. You? You get pissed off if you don't kill someone."
"I'm just trying to sharpen my skills."
"Maybe that's why you keep getting stronger," Jack added as he got out of the driver's seat. Then he glanced at their client, Dexter DeShawn, who was stepping out as well.
"You did good," Dexter said with a satisfied tone. He turned to Karl. "The job's done. Final payment's transferred."
"I got it," Karl nodded, glancing at his balance. "Smooth run. Let's work together again."
"Oh, you'll be hearing from me again."
Dexter lit up another cigar, looking visibly impressed.
Every attempt by the so-called "mysterious aggressors" (read: Voodoo Boys) had been repelled before any real danger appeared. None of them managed to even identify which vehicle Dexter was riding in. Just the name KK Team was enough to make the opposition back off.
That, to Dexter, was far more valuable than mercs who won through bloodshed.
Being a fixer was a business of connections and delegation. Combat prowess and reliability were key—but when a team could also complete jobs without conflict, relying on reputation and preparedness, that was a massive bonus.
To Dexter, it was better to hire professionals who made problems disappear before they happened, rather than those who had to fight tooth and nail every time.
As the plain-looking Colby pulled away with Dexter inside, Oliver stretched and yawned. "So that's it, huh? Escort complete. Guess it's lunch?"
"I'm down to eat," Jack said, checking the time. "Still a bit early though. Not quite lunch hour."
"Then let's kill time walking around a bit," V suggested, looking around Santo Domingo. "I haven't really explored this part of the city yet."
"I've had my fill of this place," said Oliver. "But if you're interested, I know a decent spot nearby. We can grab some coffee first, then when it's time, get a real meal. It's a low-key joint—owner's a friend, might even hook us up with some organic food."
As a local, Oliver knew exactly where to eat. The moment he mentioned the place, both Jack and Karl perked up.
"Mexican food?" "Organic?"
Jack was all about the Mexican cuisine. Karl, meanwhile, was drawn to the idea of actual, unprocessed food. Oliver had clearly hit the sweet spot.
"Sounds like a unanimous decision."
Without waiting, he jumped into the driver's seat. "Hop in—we're heading to South Coronado Farms, to a spot called Old Mex Stir-Fry. Food's legit."
"I thought I was driving today... ah, screw it."
Jack took shotgun, while Karl and V slid into the back of the Hera.
As the engine purred to life, T-BUG's voice crackled through comms.
"Don't forget to bring me a burrito. If they're out, I'll live."
"Got it," Oliver replied as he drove off.
They were currently in The Glen, not too far from Coronado Farms. Under Oliver's driving, it took less than 20 minutes for the modded Hera to pull up to the restaurant.
Old Mex Stir-Fry had a bright red sign above its plastic-flap doorway. From outside, Karl could see waitresses in orange tops and green skirts buzzing around inside, delivering plates. The setup reminded him a little of a retro KFC-style fast food joint.
After parking, Oliver waved to the others to follow him inside. First thing he did was call out:
"Rachel, bring us the good stuff—table for four!"
A waitress turned around. When she saw Oliver, her eyes lit up. After quickly finishing an order with another customer, she hurried over.
"Well if it isn't Oliver! Thought you were some bigshot these days. What brings you back to our little hole-in-the-wall?"
"Just passing through. Start us off with some coffee—we'll take our time with food."
Oliver scanned the place. Besides the window-side booths, there were only four square tables. Three were fully occupied. Only one table had a single person sitting there.
Perfect.
He motioned the others to hang back, then walked up behind the lone diner. Gently tapping the guy's leather jacket, he asked:
"Hey, man. Mind if we share the table?"
The man turned around.
The face under that jacket was… shockingly familiar.
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