Diosé was a sub-district I had yet to go to. Really, it wasn’t all that surprising. I’d avoided most of the East End considering the rep it had. No point getting my head blown off just to go on a tourist trip. Or worse, if I decided to travel into the Scath Heights.
Diosé was a bit like the rest of the city with its towering buildings and strips of neon everywhere, but the buildings here were more stacked on each other then anywhere else I’d seen. Its towering buildings - as opposed to towers stacked on each other like the rest of the city - looked more like a one or two-story building was built, and then another was built on top of it.
The cycle repeated till there were hundreds of shady alley-looking passages all built under artificial hills of cement and steel. All of which the intercity highways passed high above, giving a perfect view as I drove into the sub-district.
The further I went into it, the more gang activity I spotted. Unlike the bright red hair and bikes of the Neo-Jokers or samurai-inspired clothing and tattoos of the Jade Fangs, which made it painfully obvious when the gang was around, the gangs around here - at least the small ones - had a kind of swagger to them. It was hard to put into words. It wasn't quite Insight, but just a feeling I had as I drove down a road going over top one of the 'hills'.
I'd done enough research to know just how many gangs were in the area. The Viento Cartel was the one I’d have to look out for though. Much like how the Neo-Jokers controlled the majority of Bricktown, the Viento Cartel was in power of East End. Or at least parts of East End. This place was a breeding ground for smaller gangs of desperates.
I wasn’t just pulling that out of nowhere either. In my research of East End, which included scouring he database of the Blue Crusade, I found East End had the highest crime rates in the city, most of which were gang-related activities for small gangs. I always knew that hence my apprehension towards East End, but it was nice to have factual data to prove it.
Still, as long as I avoided confrontation and didn’t intentionally flag myself as someone suspicious, I should be fine. I rode down the roads, crawling through traffic. I had to pass through far too many tunnels, buildings making up the ceiling and walls of the passages, as I worked my way to my destination.
Maroo’s sat right in the middle of Diosé. As I drove up and parked in a garage marked with symbols of green stripes everywhere, I got my first good look at the place. I mean, sure I had seen pictures off the Net, but seeing the place in person was different.
Maroo’s was one of the few buildings on the top 'layer' of the city. Three bouncers stood around the entrance, each armed with SMGs of some kind. It was reassuring to see, in some twisted way. If I got shot, the body armor should help at least. They probably had some heavy hitters in there somewhere though.
I went through my preplanned escape routes as I walked toward the club, axing over a dozen of them as I got a better look around the place. I eyed the line for a moment, katana strapped to my back, and then stepped off to the side to send a message to Torren. ‘I’m here. Big line and I don’t want to wait.’
A few seconds later, the big guy replied. ‘Gotcha’. Skip past the line and I’ll be at the door in a few.’
That didn’t bode well. Here I thought Maroo’s was just a popping club and Torren was a patron. I guess I should’ve known better than that. If he could come let me past the line, then he had some level of authority in the place… that just left the question, what group was he with?
A large part of me wanted to back out, but I felt that greed flaunt its deadly head. He had the rest of the parts for my Sonic Suppressor. I weighed my options for a moment.
I could stay, do the trade, and leave with a fairly high chance of exposure to a group or situation that could prove annoying. Or I could leave now, be stuck with the katana for another two weeks if not longer, and potentially irritate a guy strong enough to rip a guy’s head off with ease. Oh, and I wouldn't have the Sonic Suppressor...
Decisions, decisions… hmm...
I’ll stay. It was a bit risky, true, but it wasn’t like I was a weak little rabbit. I had grenades that could mess people up if need be. That, and I’d rather stay on good terms with Torren. As they say, it's best to leave bridges unburned.
I headed for the door, nearly tripping over a guy as he slumped over unconscious and fell out of the line. I nimbly hopped over him, passively noting the dozens of red marks all over his arms. Probably a druggie.
Two of the guy's chooms were picking him up, carrying him back out of the area, so I didn’t do anything but keep on keeping on. I arrived at the front door before too long, catching irritated looks from those in line. Why do I keep finding myself in this situation?
One of the bouncers stopped me. Now that I was a bit closer, I got a full picture of the level of danger I was dealing with. All three were decked in some moderately expensive chrome. One had a processor sticking out of the side of his head, another had some extremely beefy chrome arms, and the last had some kind of chrome legs.
I couldn’t see exactly what kind thanks to his clothes, but the legs plus the tickler sockets at his knuckles made my gut clench. Could probably run me through before in less than a second.
The beefy guy crossed his arms, the imitation metal muscles rippling as he frowned down at me. “Get back in line, pendejo.”
That’s not very nice… I waited a few moments at the door, ignoring the guy for a moment as I checked the Mapp™ and made sure I was in the right spot. It was more of a nervous tick than anything. “I’m here for someone.”
Torren appeared right as the guard looked like he would blow a gasket at me. “Zuku! She’s with me, Pedro.”
The bouncer glared at me for a moment longer before stepping out of the way. The one with the processor chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. “Go on in, miss.”
Torren waved a hand to the bouncers as we stepped into Maroo’s. There was a small airlock-type area before we got out into the clubbing part of the club. Torren led me through the groups dancing like there was no tomorrow, most of them incredibly intoxicated to the point there might not be a tomorrow. He nodded and spoke with several people, but the music was too loud for me to make out what he said without effort. I didn’t bother trying.
Eventually, we walked up a back set of stairs, passing by several armed guards. Once things quieted down, Torren asked, “How’ve you been, Zuku?”
“Just working on some stuff. You?” I asked as we stepped into a dimly lit hallway. Private rooms sat spaced evenly along it on one side and the other was a boothed balcony looking down onto the dance floor.
”Nova! My uncle got me set up with another gig.” Torren smiled, cracking his knuckles idly. “This one is going to be a lot more my pace, you feel?”
”Chek.” We fell silent for a moment as we passed yet another set of guards. These were kitted with Sentinel chrome, an extremely noticeable uptick in security. I even recognized one of their arms as Sentinel’s LA Mesa, which was basically what you get when you cross chrome and a belt-fed assault rifle. Super uncomfortable to be around, to the point I was tempted to jump off the balcony and escape.
The pale green light tattoos covering the guards didn’t make me feel any better either. Nothing immediately stood out to me, but I didn’t move in this area so it was hard to tell what was a gang tattoo and what wasn’t. Lost of skulls and crosses either way. “Who’s in charge of Maroo’s anyway?” I tried unsuccessfully to keep my tone casual.
Torren didn’t seem to notice as we finally hit the top of the stairs. “Oh, just the Viento Cartel.”
Oh, it was just the Vie- I froze up as we hit the top of the stairs. The hallway here was much wider with several high-quality doors blocking the way into private rooms. That wasn’t what made me lock up, no, that honor would belong to the man - if I could even call him that - exiting a doorway down the hall.
I may not be familiar with the people of Diosé, or anywhere for that matter, but some people had a massive reputation even a no one like me knew of. The man standing down the hall was one such person: Carlos “El Soga” Garcías. Smaller scream streams all over the Arkhanikas loved to talk about the guy.
El Soga, aka ‘The Rope’, may not have the most frightening nickname, but that was before you heard the stories. El Soga was one of the Viento Cartel's four main enforcers, and his kill count was probably in the thousands. He was well known for hanging his victims, usually off the side of buildings in very public executions.
The guy looked more 'borg than human, and he was entirely covered in military-grade chrome. Most of it didn’t look familiar, but the parts that did? Dangerous. Most of the stuff looked like a mix between Raijin and KairoTech of all things. It was seriously weird seeing KairoTech’s stuff in Aythryn City, more so than Shen Kang shit. The guy's synthskin was heavily warped with signs of heavy subdermal armor.
I guess the mix match of gear made more sense considering the position of the Cartel. Unlike the Neo-Jokers, the Viento Cartel in Aythryn City was just an offshoot with the bulk of the organization in South Arkhanika. It was closer to the Jade Fangs under the Ryuu Syndicate.
El Soga looked over to us, forcing me to activate Cold-Blooded to keep my calm and not book it. The guy glanced between me and Torren with a smirk on his face, laughed, and then stalked off up the hall. I didn't know how I should feel by his actions. It was preferable to being strung up to die, I guess.
"The katana?" The shocks of cold kept me somewhat grounded as Torren led us off to one of the private rooms without a hint of concern on his face. That fact was more concerning than anything. Just who was Torren?
I swapped off the Perk, shivering slightly as I became intimately aware of how cold everything suddenly was. I slid the blade off my back and passed it over to him. “Mostly. I had to redo the entirety of the blade though.”
The sheath was just a poorly tossed-together rope bit. Torren whipped it out, turning it on without a moment’s hesitation. The weapon lit up, crimson red accumulating on the blade. He waved it, the low hum of electricity and the hissing of the thermal bits meeting fresh air emanating from the sword. “Nice… very nice.”
I watched him play with the deadly weapon as my mind whirled into thought. At first, I figured his wanting me to fix it was a cost-type deal. After looking around on the Net for so long, I was intimately aware of how pricey the thing could get. But that was assuming he was a broke merc like me and Feras. Seeing him here, in a private room inside of a Viento Cartel stronghold, made me rethink that sentiment. Rayn not being on his ‘Three Fs’ was also starting to make sense.
Torren flicked off the heat elements with a wide smile on his face. “Good job, choom. Here.” He grabbed a duffel bag and handed it to me. “The Sonic Suppressor.”
I checked the bag, making sure everything was in there. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it… " The big guy suddenly felt a lot less friendly even if nothing about him actually changed. "Hey, I got a new gig if you want to join? Good Rayn.”
I took a calculated step to the door. “I’m in the middle of some things. ‘Sides, like you said, combat isn’t my strong suit.”
Torren shrugged. “Chek. Well, if you ever need a bruiser, you know where to find me.”
I glanced around at the rather high-end private booth. “Sure do…”
His fat fingers traced the hilt of the thermal katana. “Want me to walk you out?”
“Nah, I got it. You look like you can’t wait to play with your new toy anyway. Wouldn’t want to keep you.” I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. To my honest surprise, no one stopped me nor did anyone say anything as I walked out the door and headed for my bike.
Before heading home, I made a stop by my spot in the Outskirts to truly calm myself down.