Cyberpunk 2077: V

Chapter 34: Playing For Keeps

Apparently, Regina's friend lost his eye at a bar in Little China called Kashuu Hanten. Luckily, V was practically down the road from the joint, which made her start to wonder if Regina either had a tail on her or figured out a way to track her. Neither of those options made V happy, but she pushed those thoughts aside for now.

She parked her Bandit in some public parking, then shoved her hands in her pockets and strolled along the empty sidewalk towards the bar. It was nearly midnight now, the streets in this outskirt of Little China practically barren. As V walked, she pulled up the extra details Regina said she'd send along.

All right, since you were doing whatever you were doing, here's the stitch: got a call from Jacob Lamb—a friend of mine, director from the good ol' days. Ex-director, I should say. Ever since he made a loss of a billion, the guy never set foot on a set again. Jacob makes a living playing cards. One time he tried his luck at an illegal casino at the back of the Kashuu Hanten eatery. Things weren't looking good, but instead of getting up from the table, he waited until he'd recoup. First went all his money, then his watch, wedding ring... and finally, one of his optics. Jacob wants his implant back. Sending you the coordinates of the casino where he lost it. AFAIK, the eye's still there. How you get it is your biz, not mine.

V couldn't help but roll her eyes. It was the same old story, one she'd heard plenty of times. Someone dips their toe into some small-time bets here or there, and suddenly thousands, if not millions of eddies, start hemorrhaging from their pocketbooks. Then, desperate to somehow magically win it all back, many of them put some of their most precious possessions on the line. Jewelry, cars, repo tickets, drugs...

Family members...

V shuddered at the sudden memory of something she'd witnessed on the Plains. She quickly snuffed the memory out and instead pulled up a text box to Jackie.

Hey Jackster—Regina Jones hit me up. Not a psycho gig, just a favor for a friend. Going to hit that up real quick. I'll let you know when I get back.

No reply—the dreamer was asleep. V hoped he was having good dreams.

The Kashuu Hanten looked like any other small-time Little China bar. Double metal doors, token neon sign over the doorway with the name. Piles of trash scattered nearby. Graffiti. The works.

But apparently, under this façade stood an illegal gambling operation. The Night City Mayor's office didn't take kindly to anyone who did any sort of illegal gambling; it meant there was an eddie source that they didn't have their fingers in. If they were to find out about this place, it would be raided faster than a badge pulling over a red sports car.

V went to tug at her Bakker braid before remembering it was tucked up into her badass merc hairstyle, so instead she gave the pocket of her jeans a pat. Stuffed inside was her white yokai mask; she felt it might come in handy for this little "favor."

The doors to the bar slid open with a small rattle as V approached, indicative of a bad track bearing, and she was suddenly hit with the smells of burnt synth-noodles, stale beer, and body odor. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose in disgust and instead took stock of the place as she slowly ambled up to the bar.

It was actually pretty clean, comparatively. Only a few bullet holes and bits of shattered glass and broken wall plaster here and there. Obviously a Tyger Claw joint, with the dragon statues, paper lanterns, and graffiti. The bartender-slash-noodle-cook looked at her with a bored expression as she approached, but dutifully came up to the bar and planted his hands on it. Tyger Claw tattoos swirled across his arms and chest, some of it looking like fresh ink.

"Yeah?" he growled.

"Just lookin' for a light snack," V said casually. "What'ya got?"

The bartender rolled his eyes, some box-dyed blonde hair slipping over one ear.