"Alright, we'll talk later."
Leo offered a polite closing remark and stood up.
Jack and V naturally had no objections and followed him toward the left.
Instead of heading through the small side door like in the original "plot," Leo led them directly toward the main hallway.
Of course, his real goal was to observe the "colleagues" sitting in the open booths.
Take the one on the left side of the bar, for example—it belonged to none other than The Queen of Afterlife, Rogue.
A massive, musclebound bodyguard stood outside the booth, visibly loaded with combat-grade cyberware.
Leo was starting to realize that Night City's power players seemed to have a type.
The Priest, Dexter, Rogue—they all had these giant, walking tanks for bodyguards.
With that in mind, Leo glanced at Jack… yeah, okay, looks like he was unintentionally following that trend too.
Jack was practically born to be a bodyguard—intimidating just by standing still.
Refocusing, Leo continued forward. Rogue's booth was shut tight—no idea if she was absent or conducting business inside.
The bodyguard caught his glance and shot him a "don't even think about it" look.
Message received. Leo turned and led them in the opposite direction.
The real-life Afterlife bar was significantly bigger than the one in the game. As they walked, Leo kept observing. The clientele here? Definitely high tier.
Every gang was represented. The mercs milling about were all heavily cybered up, each one radiating that unmistakable don't mess with me aura.
The clients? Even more outrageous. Sharp fashion, expensive accessories, and a few were even wearing fur coats—real fur by the looks of it.
In this world where most natural ecosystems were toast, anything "organic" or "natural" was a luxury. That fur coat? Probably more expensive than Leo's entire bulletproof suit.
Then there were the ever-present morgue drawers. No surprise—Afterlife was built from a repurposed mortuary. Old corpse lockers had been turned into makeshift tables and chairs. Some folks were even eating on them...
He hadn't paid attention earlier, but now that he looked, even the bar counter itself was made from repurposed corpse drawers—refitted into stylish mini fridges.
The chilling mist rolling across the bottles? Might've added a little flavor, who knows.
Absurdity with a twist of dark humor—that's Night City in a nutshell.
They skirted past converted operating tables being used as dining benches, avoided a few dusty gurneys shoved into the corners, and finally reached the inner section.
The automatic doors slid shut behind them, blocking out the blaring rock music and heavy haze of smoke.
"Word is, this used to be an ER or maybe a dissection room. VIP booths now, though," Jack narrated proudly.
Leo exchanged a glance with V—they both had the same resigned look in their eyes.
Thanks to Jack's "introduction," the prestige of this place had just taken a nosedive. Now even the private booths felt less impressive.
They found Booth 7—clearly labeled—and Leo pressed the scanner pad.
A green beam swept across his palm. With a shhk, the door slid open.
They were greeted by a sparsely furnished entryway. Scattered magazines on the floor, a few empty paint cans in the corner, and a vending machine humming beside them.
The circular ceiling light gave off a warm amber glow, contrasting the cold blue tones of the bar outside.
Leo stepped in first, scanning the room with his optical implants. "Seriously? 988 eurodollars a day and not even a cleaning service? I wouldn't be surprised if someone planted bugs or spy cams in all this junk."
"You two go ahead. I'll sweep the place."
Jack and V's cyber-eyes lit up as they joined him, scanners at the ready.
Leo called on Shironeko.
[Shironeko, sweep the electronics.]
[Already on it, Father. I monitor your environment 24/7. No need to be so paranoid.]
[Better safe than sorry.]
Even with her assurance, Leo scanned the area himself.
He still remembered how Saburo Arasaka ended up strangled by his own son—because Takemura hadn't swept the room properly.
No way he was making the same mistake.
Once the check was done, he moved deeper into the lounge.
And right there, front and center, were two full walls made of corpse lockers.
Of course. Now it really felt like a morgue.
"What a shithole."
He couldn't help it—he cursed out loud.
Jack poked his head around the corner, grinning. "Chill, mano! I kinda like it. You got all these 'bros' watching over you while you hold meetings. Makes us look legit, no?"
Leo rolled his eyes.
Then—BANG! A loud sound made him jump. His blood pressure spiked, fingers tingled.
He turned sharply.
It was V. She'd stomped the ground hard, just to mess with him… like a mischievous kid playing pranks.
"You serious!?"
V gave him a wicked grin. "You scared, little man? What, never seen a corpse before? Lemme tell you—dead people are great. They don't shoot back. They don't bite. When I'm out on a job, I make damn sure every enemy stays dead. Better safe than sorry."
Their bickering helped cut the tension. Leo let it go and led them deeper into the booth's interior.
The actual VIP booth, that is.
Technically, the central glass enclosure—surrounded on three sides by smartglass, with just one wall housing electronics—was the real deal.
The outer space was just staging—for guards, plus-ones, and meatshields.
The important people went inside.
"Man, this is where the legends sit. I've been dying to try this out."
Jack strolled in, knocking on the glass walls.
"Soundproof. Bulletproof too, probably. Once that door shuts, no one outside hears a thing."
V nudged Leo forward and into the booth.
It was small—maybe ten square meters. One L-shaped couch, a few single-seaters, and a long rectangular table.
That was it.
No fruit plate. No complimentary drinks.
Of course not. The 988 eurodollars only covered the room. Extras? You'd better pay up.
Leo felt like a sucker. The ghosts in those corpse drawers were probably laughing at him.
"Don't just stand there. Get in." V shoved him forward. "You paid for it—go sit in the big guy's seat. Let me see what it's like when the top dog rolls in."
Leo sighed and sat in the main seat—centered directly opposite the door. The C-position. The seat for the boss.
Jack stood aside and made a mock-formal gesture, ushering him in.
V followed and sat beside him. Jack sat closest to the door, ready to act as a human shield if needed.
He leaned back, tossed his arm over the backrest, and grinned. "Ahh, now this is the life. No wonder the top dogs love it."
V crossed her legs, eyes darting restlessly around the room. "Mhm. Not bad at all."
Something about the scene nagged at Leo.
He looked around again.
Jack by the door. V between them. Himself, front and center.
Then it hit him—a flashback.
Oh no.
This exact layout… this positioning…
It was identical to the meeting scene in the "Pickup" mission.
Only this time, he was sitting in Dexter DeShawn's seat.
V was sitting where T-Bug would be.
Jack… hadn't moved.
No wonder it felt so damn familiar.
Shit. I've become Dexter DeShawn!
---
Read Up To 30+ Advanced Chapters in pat/reon.com/KyokaSuigetsu