PoV: Vega

A heavy sigh slipped from Vega as he leaned back in his chair, the familiar walls of his office suddenly feeling a whole lot smaller than usual. He'd spent years in this place, calling it his base of operations, but lately, it was starting to feel less like an office and more like a glorified closet.

"I seriously need a bigger office," he muttered, checking the time through his cerebral interface once more.

He'd just messaged that mysterious girl—Ela—about the Operator meeting she'd cashed in her favor for. If he was being honest, he'd never expected her to actually call it in, and certainly not for something as trivial as a simple meeting with an Operator of Vega's choosing.

Getting in touch with an Operator wasn't exactly difficult, after all.

The whole reason the OPN existed was to connect people with Operators—usually for Tasks, but also just general connections weren't exactly unheard of. It wasn't some shadowy cabal that required secret handshakes, coded passwords, or fat envelopes of Credits to even speak to someone.

'They literally have a front office...'

Still, he wasn't about to complain.

Ela burning her favor on something like this was perfect—it brought the balance back to zero. At least on paper. Of course, if he really did the math, the ledger was a bit messier than that.

'Three times now,' Vega thought bitterly. 'If the girl hadn't nearly died on that last run, I'd almost think she's doing it intentionally to make Jade feel indebted. A way to worm into my good graces and the Gems' circle.'

It wouldn't be the first time that somebody had tried to get to the Gems that way.

The thought had crossed his mind more than once as a result, and he'd, of course, done his due diligence checking out the theory.

But Citrina's report had killed that suspicion pretty quickly.

Ela hadn't just been roughed up by Valir—she'd nearly gotten herself killed while trying to keep Jade safe. Not some carefully orchestrated "fake it till you make it" injuries either, but the genuine, ugly, life-threatening kind.

That was why he'd agreed when Jade begged him to cover Ela's Ripper bills.

At the end of the day, Jade owed her life to the girl, plain and simple.

"Then again," he said quietly, getting to his feet and pacing slowly toward the office door, "there's always the argument that without her, Jade wouldn't even have been in that situation… But that's nonsense," He waved the thought away dismissively. "Arguing based on a hypothetical what-if makes no logical sense. It holds no merit in a world ruled by probabilities…"

He paused at the door, a silent command via his cerebral interface sliding open a hidden panel in the wall to reveal a sleek mirror. Straightening up, he gave himself a quick once-over, checking for anything that looked out of place.

As one of the higher-ups in the Clawed Beasts, Vega knew he had to keep his appearance flawless whenever he stepped out in public—at least whenever someone might actually recognize him.

He was basically the gang's public face.

If he wandered around looking sloppy or dirty, what kind of impression would that leave about the Clawed Beasts as a whole?

"Alright, good enough," he murmured after quickly checking himself over one last time.

Satisfied, he stepped out of his office, the door locking behind him, and headed down the familiar staircase that led to the Downpour's public area.

Ela would be here soon enough, so he might as well be waiting when she arrived.

Honestly, he'd nearly forgotten about the Operator meeting entirely.

Between everything else he'd been juggling lately, something as simple as an introductory meeting had barely registered as a blip on his radar.

He'd nearly had a heart attack when his calendar had pinged, frantically worrying for a moment that he'd missed some crucial deadline or important meeting—only to laugh at himself when he realized how minor this whole thing was.

'An Operator introduction… Seriously, what is that girl even thinking?' he found himself wondering yet again.

She was clearly skilled enough to be able to walk into one of the OPN offices and talk to just about any Operator and get a recommendation after a few tries at worst—most people that came in wanting to be brand new Operators weren't exactly some enigmatic black-site project, after all.

They were blanks.

Complete and utter morons that thought the world of Operators was filled with excitement and Credits galore—which, to be fair, was entirely true.

But it was also fraught with nothing but life-threatening danger, cutthroat politics and a strange culture of respect, that Vega had never really wanted to mesh with.

Most new applicants barely made it past their second job, if even that far.

Ela, however, was clearly different.

Anyone with half a brain and a shred of experience could see it after spending five minutes with her. Which left the big question still nagging at him: Why go through all this trouble just for a simple introduction?

He'd spent more hours than he cared to admit stewing over that same damn question, but no matter how many angles he came at it from, he couldn't land on any solid, high-probability conclusion.

'Best bet? She's testing me—and the Clawed Beasts as a whole—with this little Operator request,' he mused, settling into one of the private booths tucked away in the Downpour's dim, comfortable interior.

With a simple mental flick through his interface, he ordered his usual drink—something strong, smoky. 'She wants to see how seriously we take her. Whether we actually respect the favour system, or if we'll phone it in the second she cashes it.'

And honestly? It tracked.

If he sent her off to meet some low-tier Operator scrub who couldn't tell a clean run from a blown job, she'd definitely take note. It'd be a mark against him and the gang.

Not good.

But on the flip side, if he introduced her to someone too close to him—one of his old buddies or a favoured contact—it might look like he was trying to grease the wheels for her.

No challenge. No effort. Just coasting on connections. That wouldn't reflect well either.

It was a delicate balance, but thankfully, Vega had just the right person in mind: Cryo.

Not a friend. Not a stranger.

A known quantity who owed him a small enough favour that they wouldn't consider it mandatory to accept Ela's requests and whose opinion on her wouldn't be swayed by Vega's presence.

Exactly the kind of Operator who could give Ela a real test—one she'd respect, regardless of outcome. At least that's what Vega was hoping for.

"Hopefully Cryo and her will mesh well," Vega muttered, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders back as he leaned against the booth's high backrest.

The last few days had left him sore in places he didn't even know he had.

Ever since Jade and Ela's run-in with that pompous heir of the Talon, his life had turned into a blur of crisis meetings, alliance calls, and just enough diplomacy to make him consider retiring and becoming a bartender.

All his efforts were focused on keeping things from escalating into a full-blown gang war.

Then, in what could only be described as divine comedic timing, Carinola Valir herself, a fully-fledged Talon, had gone and handed him the single biggest PR win the Beasts had had in years—maybe ever.

She'd attacked Ela and Jade. She'd used her One on them.

And even more importantly: She'd failed.

The Golden Phoenix had spent one of their aces—and missed.

That gave the Clawed Beasts more leverage than Vega could've ever prayed for.

Suddenly, they weren't scrambling to clean up a diplomatic mess—they were in the driver's seat of every negotiation moving forward.

'Really gotta thank Ela for that one,' he thought with a small smile, before immediately catching himself. 'Wait—no. I already did. Paid her Ripper, covered her injuries… That counts.'

Still, he rubbed his chin and let out a long sigh. 'Doesn't really feel like it though, does it? Not with what she handed me on a silver platter… I'll have to think of something better…'

It was damn near unheard of for a Talon—or any high-ranking member of a gang, really—to A: Waste their One on a low-ranking nobody, and B: Actually fail at it.

The fact that Valir had done both? That wasn't just a fuck-up.

It was a seismic political blunder.

Vega didn't even need to put his ears to the ground to know how badly the Golden Phoenix were bleeding credibility right now. Ela and Jade surviving that whole mess didn't just bruise Valir's ego—it slapped the entire gang across the face with an open hand.

In Delta, respect was currency. And Valir had just burned an entire damn vault full of it.

The only problem?

"She's not gonna let it go," Vega muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he exhaled for what felt like the thousandth time that week. His stress sighs were getting so frequent in recent weeks, he was considering bottling them and selling them as a side hustle.

He knew Valir far too well by now. That woman held onto grudges like they were heirlooms.

And it wasn't like he had much bandwidth to deal with that kind of obsessive lunatic either.

His own plans—to break from the Clawed Beasts, to start carving out something real for himself outside of Delta—had taken a nosedive lately, mostly thanks to the Major Corps deciding now was the perfect time to rip each other to shreds.

Corporate warfare was something that was fairly unknown to Vega, compared to a lot of other politically-oriented topics, but one thing he was 100% certain about: Gangs inside of Megabuildings should not be aware of the fighting.

Corporate warfare was meant to be utterly silent.

Dead operatives here, a high-ranking member strung up in an office there, maybe even a board member getting assassinated.

But it was never loud. Never obvious. Never out in the open like this.

The fact that even his lowest-ranking operatives had reported murmurs and hearsay about the corporations outside Delta going at each other, meant that there were some serious issues going on outside.

Issues that were pushing back the start of his plans quite drastically, as many of his contacts that he had recruited over the past years had been pulled into the whole spiralling mess of the Major Corporations going at each other's throats, and were thus, no longer available to him until it all cooled down or blew over.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Not to mention four of them already having gone AWOL—dead, most likely.

He resisted the urge to clench his jaw—barely. Looking pissed wouldn't help. In this world, composure was part of the currency you traded with.

Even if years of work were threatening to go up in smoke, he simply had to continue doing what he did best: Calculate and play the probabilities.

The ping from his interface hit right on cue, short and to the point.

["She's here."]

A smile wormed its way onto Vega's face, as he sat up just that little bit straighter, getting himself ready to play the part he needed to play right now.

Because the best play he could see right now, with everything that was going on?

Getting Ela on his side.

He had come to this conclusion quite a few days ago, even before the Valir incident, but with that one unfolding and even further underlining this idea—as Jade was his operative and he had been considered the mastermind behind it all by the Clawed Beasts leadership as a result—he had grown even more certain about it.

Ela wasn't just talented. She was catalytic.

Wherever she went, things happened.

People got caught in her orbit—sometimes burned, sometimes elevated, but never unaffected.

Vega had seen it before, in different forms, different people, different times.

Agents of change. Agents of chaos.

And with his plans slowly collapsing under the weight of corporate warfare and delayed timelines, maybe a little chaos of his own was exactly what he needed to get things back on-track.

'Let's see what kind of storm you bring today, Ela,' he thought, as he saw the VoniX-black hair of a certain enigmatic person whip around the bar and head towards his booth…

Seeing Vega posted up at the same booth where I'd first met him—back during that nerve-wracking, half-blind stumble of a Task from Mr. Shori—hit me with a weird wave of nostalgia I hadn't expected.

Like deja vu, but wrapped in a different skin.

'Same place, same people, different story,' I thought, letting a small smirk tug at the corner of my mouth before I tucked it away and made my way over.

"Vega," I greeted with a casual nod, keeping things businesslike. "Appreciate you coming out here to handle this personally."

I let my gaze wander the bar as if I were scouting for someone in particular—though I'd already combed the place top to bottom for anyone who gave off even the faintest Operator vibes. It had seemed like mostly just regulars, hangers-on, and the occasional Clawed Beast with nothing better to do this early had wandered into the Downpour today.

"They're not here, Ela," Vega said smoothly, catching on and playing his part like a seasoned pro.

[Negotiation] and [Deception] had both been humming in the background of my thoughts for the past few minutes, nudging and prodding me with little cues on tone, timing, posture—enough to sell a calm, composed version of myself without looking too eager.

"We'll be heading down to the fifth floor for the actual meeting," Vega continued, gesturing to the seat across from him. "But I figured a quick catch-up wouldn't hurt."

I hesitated.

Part of me wanted to just skip ahead, walk straight into the meeting and get it over with.

My nerves were already taut enough.

But… a few minutes to breathe wouldn't be the worst thing.

And truthfully? Talking to someone who wasn't trying to kill me or sell me something—at least not directly—sounded pretty damn nice right about now.

I took the seat after a brief, subtle once-over—couldn't shake the instinct to check for pressure points, residues, or obvious setup signs.

Paranoia, maybe.

But considering how recently I'd been nearly murdered, I figured it was earned paranoia, at the very least. Once settled, I raised an eyebrow to prompt him.

His turn to talk.

"First off," Vega said, voice lower now, less showy, "I want to thank you. For keeping Jade alive out there."

He dipped his head slightly.

And even if I hadn't had Intuition, [Negotiation] and [Deception] whispering in the back of my skull, telling me his tone rang clear, I still would've believed it. The gratitude was real—raw in a way that didn't fit Vega's usual polished demeanor.

"And second," he continued, shifting gears a bit, "about the Operator Meeting. Figured you could use a quick rundown. Give you a bit of context on who you're walking into that room with."

He trailed off then, waiting for some kind of signal from me before spilling any names.

I paused for half a second—just long enough to let [Negotiation] do its job.

It didn't want me agreeing too quickly. Even if this was about helping me, I couldn't look too hungry for it. Not in front of someone like Vega.

Information was leverage.

But yeah. Deep down, I wanted to scream yes and shake him until he handed over every scrap of intel he had.

Instead, I gave a small, measured nod.

"Sure. Let's hear it."

"He goes by the name of Cryo," Vega started up again once I gave the nod. "Been in the game around eight years now, so he's no rookie. Mostly works Tasks hitting minor corps or scav dens. Keeps well clear of anything that smells even remotely like mid-major corpo business—which, honestly, is the smartest call you can make in this city—and avoids gang-related contracts too."

I soaked it all in like a sponge, mentally filing every detail away.

'Cryo is such a dope fucking name, goddamn…' I thought, fighting the urge to grin.

My Ego kept my mind locked in on the conversation, the upgraded passive effect sharpening my focus like a blade. I hadn't flipped the Active switch, but it didn't feel necessary—everything felt easier to focus on by default now.

"I don't know where he got the name," Vega continued, "but he's firm about it. Always wants to be addressed as Cryo. I'd recommend you respect that—he's not the type to let that sort of thing slide."

Duly noted.

"As for his personality…" Vega paused for a beat, like he was searching for the right word. "He's a bit rough around the edges, but he's sharp. Listens more than he talks, generally speaking. Not someone we regularly contract, but every time we do, he delivers exactly what we ask for."

[Deception] pinged in the back of my skull—subtle, but noticeable.

Exactly what was asked. Not more. Not less.

Just the exact specifications that fulfilled the brief.

'So, he never goes above and beyond,' I thought, letting the idea settle.

That actually made me like him more.

Operators that tried to overdeliver were the ones that ended up making unnecessary enemies—or worse, got curious.

I needed someone who'd stick to the script. Deliver the work, get paid, move on.

'If a client wants more, they should've paid for more,' I mused internally, nodding along as Vega spoke.

"Finally," he added, "he's not really a loner, but he doesn't have a fixed crew either. From what I gather, he's got a solid network in the OPN and picks his team depending on the Task."

He scratched his chin, expression shifting slightly. "Can't say whether that's considered good or bad by Operator standards. I'm not exactly plugged into that side of things deep enough. Just something you might want to keep in mind."

I nodded again, filing that away for later consideration.

"Thanks, Vega," I said, leaning back a little in the booth. "I really appreciate the rundown. I'll manage."

Vega gave a slow nod, fingers drumming on the table once before going still again.

But he didn't move to stand up or head for the elevator.

He just sat there, eyes fixed on me in that way that said we weren't quite done yet.

"There's one more thing," he said, voice dropping slightly, casual tone giving way to something heavier.

I didn't need him to say it. I could feel it before the words left his mouth.

"It's about Carinola Valir."

A tight knot formed in my chest, breath catching just a little. I kept my expression even, but that name always hit like a punch to the ribs. No matter how hard I tried to push her to the back of my mind, she always found a way to claw her way back in.

I didn't answer. I just gave a small, deliberate nod.

Vega leaned back in the booth, eyes narrowing slightly. "She's not going to let this go, Ela. Not a chance."

He wasn't being dramatic, and we both knew it.

"You embarrassed her. The Golden Phoenix as a whole took a massive hit. She pulled her One on you and Jade, and not only are you both—pardon the honesty—nobodies, but you walked away. That kind of thing doesn't just blow over by waiting it out for a week or two. Especially not with someone like her."

I didn't want to hear it, but I needed to.

I'd already figured she wouldn't let it slide, but hearing Vega say it out loud?

That made it real in a way I hadn't let myself fully acknowledge.

That monster was still out there. Still pissed. Still watching.

And I had no way of knowing when she'd strike again.

I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady.

The new Perk—[Double Life]—wasn't something I could exactly bring up here, but it gave me a little sliver of comfort all the same. Sera should be safe. In theory. As long as I kept my personas locked down and didn't screw up, Valir shouldn't even know she exists.

But I couldn't abandon Ela.

She wasn't just some fake shell. She was how I worked with Jade. With Misha.

Even with Vega himself and, in just a few minutes, Cryo as well.

I was too connected now. Too entrenched.

So I didn't argue the point. Instead, I met Vega's eyes and asked the only question that mattered.

"What would you recommend we do?"

I made sure to stress the we, nice and clear—subtle, but not so subtle it could be ignored.

This wasn't just my problem, after all. Even if Vega was trying to make it so.

Jade had been there too. And Jade was his responsibility.

Vega didn't flinch at the wording.

Just gave me a long, considering look, like he was reassessing the board all over again.

"Fair," he said finally, nodding once. "Here's what I can say: Valir won't be able to make a move on you, personally, for a while. The High Talon is bound to have her locked up tight somewhere where she won't cause further issues for the Golden Phoenix. But that doesn't stop her from sending people after you; potentially Jade as well."

Vega took a slow sip from his drink—still inexplicably smoking like it was fresh off a chemical fire—and exhaled the strangely-coloured smoke like he was buying time to weigh his words.

"For Jade, I can make sure she's protected fairly easily," he said finally. "I know her habits, where she goes, what she gets up to. I can have people shadow her discreetly, make sure no one gets too close. At least until we find a more… permanent solution to the Valir problem."

He let that last part hang in the air, the silence filling in all the unspoken implications.

I nodded slowly, finishing the thought for him. "But for me, you don't have that luxury. You don't know where I'll be, when I'll move, or what I'll get tangled in. Which means you can't assign help unless I ask for it."

"Exactly." Vega didn't waste words. "Now, I could offer someone to trail you inside Delta when needed—assuming you're not planning to poke the other gangs or go skipping through Restricted Floors. But I'd need a heads-up each time. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to submit a full itinerary to me in advance…"

He smirked, and I returned it with a genuine one of my own.

"Yeah, I'll pass on the full-time stalker schedule, thanks," I said, and he gave a short laugh. "But the other offer? I'll take it. If I'm heading somewhere dicey, or Valir-adjacent, having backup wouldn't hurt."

Vega nodded again, but this time leaned in a little. His posture shifted—no longer relaxed, no longer semi-conversational. This was serious business now.

"For that kind of support, I'm only asking for one thing in return."

My brow arched, already bracing myself.

Not that I didn't expect some kind of ask—tailing someone at a moment's notice wasn't cheap, especially not with competent people—but I hadn't pegged Vega as the "freebie" type anyway.

"When we figure out a way to deal with Valir for good," he said, voice lower, more focused, "I want you in it. Full bore. No half-measures. You bring everything you've got. Because if we go after her, we don't get a second chance. And having someone like you on the job? That'll help keep things… cleaner. Politically."

He met my eyes.

"You're not tied to any gang. No flags. That makes you valuable in a situation like this. You get in, you do your part, and no one can say the Clawed Beasts overstepped. We'll simply facilitate everything around it, however you require."

I hesitated.

But honestly, not for long.

Probably not anywhere near long enough, if I was being responsible.

But that familiar burn in my chest—anger, spite, fear, something else entirely—it made the decision for me before my logic could get a proper word in or even Ego could quench the flames.

"I'm in," I said, voice firm.

[Negotiation] tugged at the back of my thoughts, and I caught myself just in time to add, "But the escorts? They need to be people you trust implicitly. No rookies. No unknowns. I don't need a second threat at my back. If I'm trusting someone to watch it, they better be clean."

Vega didn't blink. He simply nodded once, slowly.

"Fair. I'll make sure they're people I'd trust to watch my back. No one else."

"Good," I said, relaxing just a little. "Then we've got a deal."

Vega didn't respond right away—just stared at me for a moment, letting the weight of the agreement settle. Then, with a slow nod, he extended a hand across the table.

I took it without hesitation.

His grip was firm, warm, and solid.

The kind of handshake that sealed deals, not just acknowledged them.

There was no flash of System acknowledgment, no magical contract binding us together—just a silent understanding that we'd both be held to what we had just talked about.

"Good," he said simply, releasing my hand.

With that, he reached for his drink, lifting the oddly steaming glass in a final, unceremonious toast to himself, to the deal, or maybe just to the hell we were about to dive into.

Then he downed the rest in one long pull.

The glass clinked back onto the table a second later, empty and still faintly hissing.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, adjusting his coat with a practiced shrug.

"Alright," Vega said, glancing toward the exit. "Time to meet Cryo and get your favour dealt with."

I stood up as well, giving my own gear a quick once-over—knives in place, deck ready, everything locked and loaded.

It was time to meet the Operator that would hopefully facilitate my entry into the OPN, my own Operator License and all the Tasks and experience that came along with it…

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