Christopher Strun stepped into the office. His eyes snapped to a rather short girl sitting in his boss's seat. According to his boss, she was from corporate. She didn't really seem like the corporate type. Maybe because of the lack of professional attire? And yet, she had a clean, sweet face that any corpo woman would pride themselves on. Or would've, if not for the eyepatch.

A black eye patch, looking as if it just came out of the medical ward, wrapped around her left eye. It trailed back, hidden behind her dark hair and Slashers baseball cap. Only her one peeper looked up at him innocently.

He always disliked the corporate type. They were so condescending to mere workers like himself. Hopefully, this conversation wouldn't be too painful. "Miss?"

The girl smiled lightly, radiating a pure aura. Hers seemed entirely genuine, lacking that kind of soulless gaze that most wage slaves had. It immediately struck him as odd. This was the first, and likely last, time he ever equated corpo and innocence. "Right. Christopher Strun… please, have a seat."

Christopher moved to take a seat across the desk from her. It wasn't the first time he'd sat in this position, but it was a bit weird sitting across from someone so different than his boss. "May I ask what this is about?"

"You can." The girl paused as if waiting for him to reply. Before he could though, she started speaking again. Classic corpo. "What's your opinion on Albert Abernathy?"

Christopher frowned and his back instantly straightened. This was the second time in recent memory someone asked him about the Head of Operations. "He paid for my mother's funeral, and did right by us… He even helped out with my rent after my mother's passing. From the few times I've interacted with him, he seemed like a stand-up guy."

"Chek." The girl tapped on the desk, her nail sending a sharp reverb through the metal. She stared at his hands, seeming to take an interest in the grease covering them. He hadn't had time to wipe them off, so they were covered in smudges and marks.

"The other guy asked the same thing… is there something going on with Mr. Abernathy?" Christopher wiped at his hands subconsciously and stuffed them into his pockets.

Her eyebrows creased upward as she completely ignored his question. Typical corpo. "Other guy?"

"Yeah, he came by two months ago and called me out." Christopher had a sick feeling in his gut, like there was something wrong. Rather, that he might've done something wrong. He really hoped this wouldn't cost him his job.

The girl frowned, though it didn't diminish the sweet and honest look she had in the slightest. He knew better than to judge a book based on its cover though. The girl could've been an eighty-year-old woman with some eccentric tendencies for all he knew. He'd heard tales about such crazies modifying their entire body to 'return' to youth.

"Did he leave a name?" She asked.

Christopher tried to think back to about two months ago. "The guy came during our celebration for doubling our production from last year. Um… Eli Usser, I think he said… he was a bit shifty when he pulled me aside."

She leaned forward on the desk. Her hair shifted under her hat, letting several long locks into her face. Her nose scrunched up and she shoved it back once more. "How so?"

"Well… it's like he kept looking over his shoulder? Almost as if he was scared about something or another. I just thought it was weird since he seemed to have a pretty high position in the company. I don't know… it's been a while." He shrugged.

"Can you describe him to me then?" The pulled out her phone to take notes.

"Um… It's been awhile… Oh, he had scars all over his back. I thought it was kinda weird." He tried to remember more, but the rest of the details escaped him. "Sorry, I can't say much more."

The girl sighed and stood up from the desk. She stuck her hand out. "It's alright. Thank you for the assistance. It's proved quite a helpful."

Christopher shook her hand and started to back up to the door. "No problem, ma'am.'

Just before he could exit the corpo's gaze, her voice softly called out behind him. "One more thing. What do you think of red envelopes?"

He paused for a moment, his hand on the door handle. His thoughts tried to piece together what she was trying to say but failed. He turned back to see an innocent smile as if she really was just a kid and not a terrifying corporate operator. "Red envelopes, ma'am? I dunno… I'd rather just email. Cheaper that way."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Right. You can go." The girl slid back in the chair. "And call in Micheal."

Christopher walked back out into the shop with a breath of relief. He always hated being questioned by his corporate overlords. It was like if he responded wrong just one time, he would be 'disappeared'. At the very least, this one didn't go too poorly. He hoped.

Once he was a distance away, he pulled out his walkie-talkie. His eyes drifted back to the office as he idly pondered the situation.

— — —

I stared blankly at the door. To be honest? I didn't think it was him. Too obvious. He seemed like the honest sort too, and not the type to blackmail. More importantly, a key factor came up as I watched him—one that changed my mind about this entire thing.

I looked down at my hand, where some grease rubbed off onto me during our handshake. Unlike the grease all over Christopher Strun, the grease on the envelopes had been… clean, for a lack of better words. It didn't have that same steely grit from metal grinds that'd been all over Mr. Strun and now my hand.

If it came from here, why would the grease be clean? It shouldn't. It wouldn't. At least, not all of it across three letters. There'd be at least some grit in the grease. To me, this whole thing screamed a setup. And a rather poor one at that. Whoever attempted this likely didn't have the foggiest idea what an actual workshop was like. Definitely not a professional.

I shifted my gaze out to the workshop, appreciating the flow of workers as they tirelessly slaved away at their jobs. It gave a nice backdrop to pull my thoughts together. It was surprisingly difficult. I felt scatterbrained… maybe I was still suffering some side effects?

This Eli Usser he mentioned might be the culprit. And the name sounded fake to begin with. Eli Usser. Eli Us. Alias. It was a pretty common tactic to give names that weren't far off from the truth, at least in my experience. For instance, Zuku Ichima came easy to me since it came from two familiar sources, so it was easy to remember.

Unfortunately, I'd have to scroll through months of tapes to find a face for him, and even then it might turn up empty. 'Course, there was also the chance Eli Usser wasn't even related to this in the first place. He could just be some random corporate operator who happened to ask overlapping questions. Coincidences did exist, though the likelihood was admittedly low. Especially since the first letter would've been right around when he visited Christopher Strun.

My issue is that the people Mr. Abernathy mentioned all lacked the motive to blackmail him except for Christopher. The CEO could take him out through simpler methods, his wife and son needed him to keep his job, and Leanara Strun was dead.

Hmm… for now, I should broaden my scope. The intel could've leaked through some other source. With no other real lead other than a re-examination of the letters, this Eli Usser was the only chance I had. And Strun told me the guy looked like he held a high position. Corporate politics were reason enough to resort to blackmail.

The foreman, Micheal Schwartz, returned to the office. His expression soured when he spotted me sitting in his chair, but it immediately curled into a corporate smile. "Do you need anything else, ma'am?

I looked him over for a moment, attempting to chart my path forward. "Your party a couple months ago… where was it held?"

The man instantly turned slightly paler. "Ma'am, I know it was against regulations, but I just figured-"

"I don't care about that." I once more cut him off. I dunno what he faced in the past, but he seemed to have a serious problem jumping to the worst conclusions. To be fair, he probably thought I was some kind of corporate black op operator considering one of the highest members of ASCorp gave me the run of the place.

Another point of oddity, now that I thought about it; why, exactly, didn't Mr. Abernathy just go to a corporate operator? Was this secret really so big he couldn't trust his own people… oh, wait. Yeah, that's just how corpos rolled.

"R-right." He rubbed a hand across his gruff face. "Mr. Abernathy paid for us to have a private party at Ruby's BBQ… I don't know if you'll be able to get the feed from them though."

'Course. Why would anything be easy for once? Why couldn't I just say, 'Hey, the son did it!' and be absolutely correct without even having to try that hard? Well… on the bright side, at least it wasn't like I would be doing something dangerous.

I left the factory and headed for my newest destination: Ruby's BBQ. Thankfully, it wasn't too far, so I didn't waste nearly as much AE3 as I did driving to Elysium and then back over here. Still, since I only had half a tank, I decided to do something I'd been curious about for a while. I shifted the liquid of the canteen with a thought, changing it to AE3. Hopefully, by the time I was done, there'd be enough to top up my tank.

I still had yet to test it. Now would be a perfect chance considering how much fuel I was chugging this gig. Seriously, if I had to do too many treks back and forth, I would actually lose Rayn.

The ride down there wasn't too bad. The occasional ganger waving his gun around didn't exist anymore in the face of Sentinel patrols and increased pressure from the Blue Crusade. That gave me time to enjoy the sights a bit more on the drive.

Bricktown itself was about as bricky as usual. It would've been a bit boring of a drive if not for the abundance of tags everywhere. Predominantly the Neo-Joker's tags, but there were some oddly artistic pieces scattered about.

I even spotted a massive jade dragon marked over by a hundred small skulls. It was clearly the Neo-Jokers trying to cover up the Jade Fang's tag, but someone had turned it into a massive battle between the hundred skulls and the dragon. Seriously skilled.

Ruby's BBQ sat right smack dab in the middle of Bricktown and was a booming place. For Neo-Jokers, that was. I pulled up to the building on my bike, taking in the sight of close to a hundred motorcycles pulled up at the entrance, half blocking up the road. Their logo, a laughing skeleton wearing a jester's hat, tagged up every surface around. There was no question this was their turf.

A duo of Neo-Jokers burst through the front door, laughing uproariously. They drunkenly staggered out to their bikes. Their bright, flashy red hair caught my attention more than anything else. The lump dropping into my gut fell even further as their leather cuts caught under the neon lights.

This? This complicated things.

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