The impound was a surprisingly clean place, though I should’ve guessed that it would be well maintained considering its proximity to the center of Bastion. Everything close to the center was well taken care of, in hindsight. There were pillars of concrete and bollards blocking the entrance and exit to those who hadn't paid. Solid yellow lines surrounded each car as if to completely isolate them. The lack of noise in the place also served to make it feel downright eerie, like a horror movie killer was about to jump me.

There weren’t too many cars in the area, each of them locked in place by magnetic restraints that could only be deactivated once the price of five hundred credits was paid. The panel on a small pedestal in front of each of the vehicles glowed blue with a handprint and a message indicating that once I paid I was expected to remove the vehicle from the lot immediately, and that any illegal goods that may have been in the vehicle were forfeit. Lucky for me, we’d already taken just about everything out of the back before it got impounded.

Five hundred credits drained from my account and I was sitting in the driver seat, programming the route I’d take to the information broker. I’d put my mask on again, and re-equipped the hoodie that was still in the back. Virtually everything else other than the tarp had been taken, but I didn’t mind so long as I wasn’t slapped with another fine. I felt like I was beginning to hemorrhage money at this point, my wallet bleeding with every small errand I ran. It was a funny feeling, considering I had more money than most people could make in a lifetime in the real world.

While the truck drove itself to the broker’s building, I caught a message from Jolly saying that AZTea would be unavailable for a bit due to real life issues cropping up. I gave him a metaphorical thumbs up and told him not to worry about me if he had to disappear too. I could only assume that the two of them were friends of some sort, and even with my slowly healing but still woefully inept social skills I knew it wasn’t my place to meddle.

As for the information I was going to be looking for, I wasn’t just looking for another warehouse. I wanted to be certain about how Bastion SWAT came to be at the mall, and I wanted to retaliate immediately, regardless of if I had to do so alone or not. I pulled the Recycler Pistol from the holster I’d readjusted and laid it across my lap, running a thumb over the grip. I almost couldn’t wait to execute whoever tipped them off.

I began counting the number of enemies I made on one hand as I passed a nightclub, a steady stream of players and NPCs hanging entering and leaving the place. The Whitman Arms Dealers, Lion’s Mane and Crescent Shield, possibly Zephyr, and maybe Bastion’s police forces at this point all wanted a piece of me. I leaned back in my seat, wondering if I should call for a parlay and pay reparations before I had to deal with any no-win scenarios. While it had been fun in some ways, I’d nearly been ejected from the game before we got out of the mall. I simply couldn’t take too much more of that, though I'd happily take on other challenges once I'd prepared accordingly.

It took me a few minutes to realize I’d already arrived while I was lost in my own little world, and I stuffed the energy weapon into the pockets of my hoodie, leaving the holster behind. With guards having more of a presence in the area I really needed to get something that allowed me to carry openly. The pockets of the hoodie were far too difficult to use when it came down to being faster than the other guy in a firefight. I stepped out and walked into the megabuilding once more.

The place the information broker operated out of was this dingy little slice of the top floor that played at wealth with none of the status. While normally I might’ve expected a place like his to get raided by police, somehow it managed to stay afloat, even with the gaudy looking gold dragon statues on either side of the entryway, and the woman who wore way too much makeup acting as a receptionist. The whole place was a purposefully poor attempt at insinuating gang affiliations.

“No, I don’t have an appointment. I need to see the guy upstairs.” I skipped the formalities this time, knowing full well that doing so was likely to make him raise the price for his information. I didn’t care at this point since I was likely to be flat broke by the end of the day regardless of what he asked for as payment.

“He’s with another client right now, but I can pencil you in for afterward.” I stopped at her response as she directed me to a gaudy leather chair off to my left, the armrests ending in carvings of horses. I sat down and waited with my hands in my pockets, holding the grip of the Recycler Pistol like it was a security blanket.

I passed the time by scrolling through the forums. A few players had posted screenshots of the madhouse that was the mall fiasco, but those were few and far between, buried beneath the brewing guild war in the Ruined Zone as everyone was fighting for territory. Resource points were flowing into Bastion at a fluttering rate, the quality of mundane things rising and falling as the top guilds secured a slice of the proverbial pie, leaving the rest for everyone else to fight over.

I looked up as a player bedecked in heavy tactical gear walked out, grumbling about getting scammed and angry that he hadn’t been simply shot the broker. “Mr. Duveen will see you now.” The receptionist said after a minute, not even looking up from her deskwork. When I walked by I noticed it was just a crossword puzzle underneath a half filled out legal document. I could’ve made some snide comment, but I figured I’d already been enough of a pain to deal with.

Duveen was the exact opposite of sleazy, dressed in a stylish suit jacket-and-tie combo with a pair of slacks, his blonde hair neat and tidy. “Ah yes, Keldath. My sources indicate you had a bit of a scuffle with Bastion police. What ever did you do to set off that hornet’s nest?” He spoke with a predatory smile, his fingers steepled. I sat down in the far less gaudy leather seats that Duveen used for actual business, and leaned back. “Well, you’re the information broker. Got any guesses?” I was still trying to get a handle on him but I knew that he enjoyed speaking cryptically before business as he’d done so upon our first meeting. Humoring him was the best way to get good information. Anything else and something critical was likely to be left out.

“Well, a friend of a friend told me that Bastion’s SWAT teams were mobilized, and they found quite the deal going down in an abandoned mall. Most of the suspects were apprehended, but the goods in question got out before they could be seized, and one of the dealers even escaped. Quite a story if you ask me.” I gave him a small smile, guessing that his inside source was a dirty cop involved with the raid. Before I could continue the wordplay, he stopped me by clasping his hands together and speaking once more.

“I’m going to just assume I’m right since the last customer was rather irritating, so let’s just get down to business. What are you in the market for?” He leaned forward slightly and I sat up straight, the both of us skipping the rest of the formalities. “I need to know the location of another operation belonging to the Whitman Arms Dealers. Something on a smaller scale so I don’t have to deal with as much heat, and the location of one of his major workshops for later. Got anything solid?” I crossed one leg over the other as I spoke. “Finally, I’d like to confirm whether or not it was them who tipped off Bastion SWAT if you have that info.”

“My my, that’s a big order you have there. On the warpath then?” He chuckled before turning to a computer just off to the side and typing away. “Since you prefer actual intel despite it being more expensive, I have a solid location on the workshop. More people with looser lips, you understand. For something smaller I only have rumors and hearsay. I’ll tell you freely that Bastion’s lap dogs were tipped off anonymously, since that doesn’t cost either of us anything.” He was playing the long game with me, getting in my good graces so that later on I’d accidentally give him something to use against me. I was sure of it. Information brokers were always like that, looking to gain the upper hand even while offering the other in friendship.

“What’s the price for the workshop location?” I opened up my menu and prepared to withdraw a sizable sum, bracing myself all the while. He grinned at me. “Since I noticed you being rather blunt with my receptionist to the point where it could be perceived as rude, I’ll be bumping it up by a bit. Four thousand credits and the location is yours, along with a little something extra.” I had to stop myself from flinching at the cost. Half my credits was quite expensive, especially because I still needed to resupply if I were to take any other jobs.

Nevertheless I withdrew four thousand credit sticks, the soft clinking noises in my empty pockets signaling that I now had the physical money on hand. The credit sticks slid across the desk all at once, Duveen’s eyes sparkling with the light of someone who’d just made a massive amount of profit for minimal effort.

He tapped on his keyboard a few more times before my map updated, highlighting the location of the workshop I was going to be going after, before handing me a flash drive. “Since you paid the extra fee with no haggling, that’ll get you inside. Think of it as a skeleton key and a storage device with everything you've asked for.” I took the small object and pocketed it. From there we concluded the transaction and I left the megabuilding with all due haste. I still needed to stock up on ammo for my grenade launcher, among other things.

By the time I got back to the truck I was already forming a basic list of things I’d need to buy. It was for this reason I didn’t notice the NPC pulling a gun on me before he shot me in the leg. “Mr. Whitman sends his regards.” The NPC pulled the trigger again, sending another bullet into my gut. My health was already in the red as my hand went into my pocket and gripped the Recycler Pistol, pulling the trigger as I pointed the barrel through the fabric at the NPC assailant.

Mercifully the encounter resolved itself in my favor, the NPC’s body shattering as I hastily began patching myself up with my own clothing. I hauled myself into the seat of the truck and set it to take me back to the apartment, where I’d ignorantly left both of my medical kits, my health refusing to heal even though the bleeding effects had subsided for the moment. My heart hammered in my chest for a solid minute as the truck drove, and I had to fight to steady my breathing. I very nearly had a panic attack, an emergency logout warning displaying in front of me the whole time.

When I finally arrived back at my own megabuilding, I found Hugh rummaging around the apartment kitchen. I gave him a grunt in greeting while holding the worst of the two bullet injuries I’d taken before heading into my room to patch myself up. He took one look at me as I passed by and said nothing, trusting me to take care of myself.

Two minutes later and one less clean hoodie, I walked back out and handed him a thousand credits for the mall job. He grinned at the payment before asking about the next job. I returned the grin as I realized I might not have to take down an entire workshop on my own.

The list of supplies we needed was a bit more than my budget allowed, so I asked him if he’d found any decent contracts when he was doing his own thing. He shook his head and told me that if I was looking to make some fast credits that I could always try Zephyr again, since they didn’t seem to be particularly hateful of me. I rejected the idea, citing their dismissiveness of Lion’s Mane following them to the deal. They’d probably offered us up as bait.

Hugh just shrugged and sat down at the kitchen counter. “I’m just sayin’, an enemy today is a friend tomorrow. They’ve got credits and might just pay a third party to take out the competition. Even the playing field for them, so to speak.” He spun around in the chair to watch the holo-screens that were currently broadcasting footage from the mall job. “Man, I never expected to end up on TV.” I didn't know how he thought that worked as a saying, but I had to agree with him on the last part. I didn't expect to end up on TV either.