"This revolver is the work of a firearms designer—not mass-produced, and never could be.
As for its design philosophy... well, I don't fully understand it myself.
But the moment I saw you, I thought—it seemed made for you."
After the brief introduction, Meredith hooked her finger through the trigger guard and handed the revolver over.
Dangling from her finger, it swayed lightly in the air. From the way she had spun it earlier, its balance seemed sound.
Arthur took it, cautious but curious. To his surprise, it felt much lighter than it looked—the weight was just right.
The barrel's intricate design gave the weapon a top-heavy appearance, but once in hand, it felt perfectly balanced.
"Power aside..."
He traced the barrel with his other hand. The surface was smooth, warm—nothing like cold metal. He hesitated.
"This... almost feels... fragile."
"Ha! I knew that's what you'd think.
It's not glass—it's a space-grade composite. Rare, extremely hard to process.
That's why it could never be mass-produced.
All you need to remember is this: it's tough. Very tough.
As for its firepower? Try it yourself. It won't disappoint."
Meredith shook her head with a smile at Arthur's doubtful expression.
She moved to a cabinet, pulled out three glasses, and set them down in front of them.
"Drink?"
Arthur's hand was already on one. The days he'd spent tangled with the Animals had worn him down; it was about time for a drink.
Meredith brought out a tall bottle filled with clear liquid. Even before she pulled the cork, Arthur swore he could smell the alcohol.
"I hear this one's reserved for the upper crust. I don't know much about it—I don't drink often. But you two should try it."
She poured, filling each glass to the brim.
The aroma hit instantly, richer than Arthur expected.
He smacked his lips, lifted the glass, and smiled—something rare these days.
"You know what makes the best drink?"
He raised the glass slightly.
"When it's poured by a friend."
Laughter followed as the three downed their glasses in one go.
Arthur couldn't explain what made the liquor special—only that its fragrance was unlike anything he'd ever tasted.
The conversation eventually turned to their mission—and Meredith's rivals.
"Back in the day, I got played by some bastard..."
Meredith rarely drank, and the alcohol was already loosening her tongue. Her words grew slurred.
"That old dog's son thought he had a shot with me. Saw I was on my own and started hanging off me like a leech.
Back then, burp... I wasn't in this seat yet, so I couldn't openly refuse.
So I told him... I told him..."
She tapped her forehead, paused, then burst out:
"I fucking love women! I told him to get lost!
And the idiot actually dosed himself with estrogen. Too damn stupid.
But I was climbing fast. By the time he realized I'd tricked him, I wasn't even afraid of his decrepit father anymore."
She flung her arms as if breaking through every obstacle in her way.
In the fading sunlight, the small heart-shaped scar on her neck seemed a little less dark.
"Not bad news, huh?"
Arthur finished his glass, set it aside, and stretched his shoulders.
"Maybe... you need some rest. Then enjoy life without enemies breathing down your neck."
"We'll... work together again?"
Slouched on the bar with a half-smile, Meredith squinted at him as he prepared to leave.
Her nose was red from the drink; she rubbed it without thinking.
"Of course.
Take care, ma'am... Best case, smooth sailing from here.
And..."
Arthur lifted the revolver, then slid it into the holster at his waist.
"Thanks for the gift. Let's hope the next time I drop by, it's not because it broke."
Stepping out of the luxury apartment, Arthur stretched long and hard.
This job had taken several days. Not deadly at every turn, but exhausting all the same.
At least... it was finally over.
And walking away with two hundred thousand eddies wasn't small change. Clearly, corp types weren't strapped for cash.
The two strolled toward the NCART station. Not without costs, though—Jackie still had to cover the car repairs.
As the city blurred past the carriage window, they arrived at their stop, stepping out into the streets of Watson District.
Arthur glanced around—people in gleaming reflective clothes, neon hair in every shade imaginable. Others collapsed on sidewalks, wrapped in newspapers.
Oddly enough, it felt like coming home.
Their first stop was, of course, Vik's clinic. Jackie, meanwhile, was eager to slip away to see his girlfriend.
Watson was vast, but with a station in Little China, the walk wasn't far.
Arthur pushed open the door to Esoterica. As always, the place was nearly empty.
Jackie wasn't there, but Misty sat quietly behind the counter, flipping through something in her hands.
Hearing the door, she looked up and quickly stood, eyebrows lifting in relief.
"So glad you're both safe."
Her lips pressed together, unable to hide her joy, though she stayed as quiet as ever.
"Not without bad news."
Arthur pulled the hat from his waistband, holding it up.
"It's seen better days."
The shop was small—by the time he finished speaking, they were already at the counter.
Arthur set the hat down.
Misty ran her hand along the scorched mark, then looked up with concern.
"That was... far too close.
You need to be more careful. Luck doesn't stick around forever."
Arthur shrugged, glancing past her into the shop.
"Maybe... I'll need another hat. Something like this one."
Fingers brushing the charred line, Misty nodded.
"Sure... No problem. These are decorative, really—I've got plenty."
With that, she turned and walked deeper into the store.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser