Chapter 3: Redlight Boulevard

Victor rubbed his tired eyes as he held onto the straphanger. He fought back the temptation to let his exhaustion creep up on him.

“♪~Bee Boo~♪ Attention all passengers. We are now arriving at -LOWER WARD 6A- . Please proceed to the exit in an orderly fashion. Thank you for traveling with Scion City Transit.”

A pleasant automated voice chimed from a speaker above his head. He shook off his fatigue and readied himself. The doors let out a pressurized hiss and parted open.

What greeted Victor as he stepped out was not the sterile streets of Syndica. Instead, it was the city's industrial outskirts, Lower Ward 6A, better known to the street rats of Scion as 'Redlight Boulevard'. There were no shining mirrored surfaces or high-tech alloys here. Just riveted metal walls and exposed pipes that burst with steam from their joints. There were even some ancient buildings in this district that were still made of brick and mortar.

Despite its aged nature, it was the hottest spot in the Lower Wards after dark. Whether you wanted to score a fix, find some company for the night, or just party hard, the Boulevard had what you needed. Illicit or otherwise.

Victor's boots clacked against the metal grating as he made his way down the station steps. He pulled the lapels of his jacket closer together as he walked. It wasn't that he was cold. The climate was actually warm and muggy here. Sometimes the air was even thick enough that it felt like he was breathing through a damp sponge. Rather, it was more of an instinctual reflex to fend against pickpockets. 

Immediately after stepping out of the metro station, his senses were assaulted by an abundance of stimuli. Flashing neon, thumping music, and the smell of tobacco smoke mixed with cheap perfume. On the surface, it shared similarities with Syndica. Both were a den of excess and indulgence. But there was just something about the Boulevard that was more authentic, more visceral.

He slipped by some giggling girls in their early 20s. The girls swayed and wobbled as they walked, leaning on each other for support. He could smell the liquor on them from a mile away. They were so fucked up that it was a wonder how they weren’t already passed out somewhere.

A group of well-dressed men came sauntering past him and entered an open threshold decorated with velvet curtains. When he looked at the pinup logo on the sign, he realized that it was a strip club specializing in android entertainers. Scrolling text advertised that the business had a “two for one special” available.

Straight across from it was a tattoo parlor that doubled as a chop shop. There, you could get bootleg cybernetics on the cheap. Just like the Spires, the Lower Wards had its own cybernetic enhancement clinics. Just don't ask to see their medical license or where their second-hand augments come from.

Everywhere he looked, there were people indulging themselves in some vice or another. As Victor moved further into the heart of the district, the area grew more densely packed. Eventually, he was forced to shove and push his way past the throng.

Even though Syndica had more people, it didn't feel as crowded. Redlight Boulevard was full of narrow, twisting alleys. The buildings pressed in on all sides giving a feeling of claustrophobia. When he eventually managed to break free of the most crowded section, Victor sighed with relief.

Soon he reached his destination. Just ahead was an old foundry converted into a nightclub. The building was a massive three-story structure with rivets and iron plating. A steady thumping bass could be heard from within. The sign above the entrance read 'E-Lucid'. This was the favored hangout of the Reapers.

A long line formed outside the front. Occasionally, the doorman would open up the rope barricade to let a group pass. Behind him a pair of heavily-augmented bouncers stood with their arms crossed. Both of them were covered in battle scars and they openly showed off the sidearms in their shoulder holsters.

Victor skipped past the line. When he approached the doorman, the man simply waved him through without question. The bouncers glanced his way, but otherwise made no move to stop him. They were no doubt informed beforehand that he'd be coming.

Inside, the air was hazy and indistinct. Anytime one of the strobe lights would flash, Victor could see the smoke hanging in the air. The music was so loud that he could feel the bass rattle his ribcage. 

The aesthetic of the club was dominated by its pink and violet neon lighting. The floor was black marble and the walls were embedded with holoscreens.

Victor descended down a small flight of stairs into the dance pit on the main floor. Dozens of bodies moved in time with the music. Sweat dripped from their skin as they bounced, filling the air with the scent of salt and liquor.

As he continued forward, he passed a small stage with a girl pole dancing. She wore a black crop top and miniskirt along with some strappy heels. Her hips swung hypnotically back and forth in a steady rhythm. She knew exactly how to move in a way that made it hard to resist letting your eyes roam over her. When she bent at the waist and ran her hands up her long legs, she flashed her panties and earned some wolf whistles from the crowd around her. It was only after she glanced over her shoulder and made eye contact with him that Victor realized he was getting distracted.

Victor pushed his way through the crowd. On the opposite side of the pit, he reached a staircase and made his way up. The second floor was a bar and lounge with booth seating and a balcony looking out over the pit below. 

He passed by a booth with a couple of skinheads covered in gang tats. These guys were Reapers. One of them was smoking a cigar and just flicking the ash onto the floor. At the same time, the other was cutting out lines on the table with a switchblade. When he finished, he snorted the powder off the surface.

Glancing around, Victor spotted another dozen or so Reapers on the floor. Two of them were guarding the doors to a private lounge labeled ‘VIP’. He took a deep breath and approached them.

“Scorpion’s expecting me.”

One of the guards smirked with schadenfreude while the other stayed stone-faced. He nodded over his shoulder and indicated for Victor to go through.

The VIP lounge had the same pink and violet glow of the rest of the club, but here the music was blocked out to just a low rumble like a distant storm. There were only a few people besides the guards. This space was reserved for the big shots.

One man was sitting alone at a table disassembling and cleaning an SMG with an ivory grip and modified sights. Another few were playing cards between rounds of shots. Among them, seated on a velvet upholstered couch, was Scorpion.

He was a large man with a shaved head and dark facial hair. With his suit and dress shirt with the top buttons undone, he was like a gangster's imitation of a businessman. Scorpion had a penchant for flashy jewelry. His fingers were adorned with numerous rings and there was a gold chain around his neck. A pair of buxom ladies massaged his shoulders with seductive smiles.

“If it isn’t my old pal, Victor. Just the man I was hoping to see tonight.”

Scorpion’s arrogant tone got the girls around him to giggle and paw at his chest. 

“No need for games, Scorpion. You called me here, so what is it that’s so urgent? I’m not due yet.”

“That was before, and this is now. Unfortunately, there’s been a change in things. I’m gonna need your payment now and the rest in a week.” 

“It doesn't work that way. That’s not the agreement we made when I took a loan.” 

Scorpion responded with an amused chuckle. “Listen to this guy. Not afraid to speak your mind. I like that.” Half through speaking, his smile dropped and his tone turned cold. “But, it’s my money and I set the rules. I decide when I want it back.”

“How am I supposed to get it on such short notice? It’ll take me at least till the end of the month.”

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something. Runners like you are resourceful like that.” 

Without wasting any more time, Scorpion snapped his fingers and a pair of thugs came up on either side of Victor. They patted him down until they found the credits in his pocket he received earlier tonight. Once they seized the chip, they tossed it over to Scorpion. Just like that, he was back to being broke once again.

Victor was fuming with indignation, but what could he do? He was only one man. It didn’t matter if the Reapers didn’t follow the rules. In Redlight Boulevard at least, there was no one who could call them out on it. 

“This is bullshit. The Reapers don’t even stick to their own words now?” Victor spat with frustration.

The temperature seemed to drop by several degrees as some of the other Reapers looked up from their cards at him. One of the girls rubbing Scorpion’s shoulders scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“Who are you to talk back to my bae like that? Someone should teach this guy-”

Her words cut off as she yelped in pain. She didn’t get to finish her sentence before Scorpion gave her a ruthless slap across the face.

“Did I tell you to say something, bitch?”

The girl just shrunk back and hung her head, going back to massaging his shoulders without another word. She was fighting back tears with her cheek bright red. Scorpion didn’t pay her any more attention and turned his gaze back on Victor.

For his part, Victor remained silent. He didn't feel the slightest bit of sympathy for the girl. That was the kind of lesson everyone learned when dealing with the Reapers. No matter how much Scorpion played at being a gentleman, he was still a savage animal underneath. If she's going to use him as a thick thigh to cling to, she'd better get used to it.

Scorpion smiled and went on as if nothing had happened.

"As I said earlier: My money, my rules. I'm simply calling it back a little early. We've got big plans coming up, so I'm afraid even after taking your complaints into consideration, I'm still going to need those credits by next week."

Victor had no intention of arguing any further. He didn't want to give Scorpion the satisfaction, nor did he want to test the man's patience. There was no point trying to fight him here, not when he was surrounded by his cronies. He would just have to figure something else out.

"Alright. I'll figure it out. But we're through after this. Once I'm paid off, I don't want any more trouble."

"See, now was that so hard? Now, I think you've worn out your welcome. Better run along. My boys here will escort you out."

Scorpion made a shooing motion with his hands as he dismissed him. A hand landed on his shoulder. The same two thugs that took his money jerked him around and then shoved him toward the exit. Victor had no choice but to walk forward. He glanced back one last time and saw the self-satisfied grin on Scorpion's face. Even the girls looked delighted at his expense.

The two guards dragged him downstairs and out a back entrance into the alley behind the club. He was about to shake off their grasp when they suddenly pushed him against the wall. 

"Before you go, we'll leave you with a little reminder not to shit talk the Reapers again." 

Cracking his knuckles as he spoke, one of the two gave Victor a crooked grin while his buddy pulled him off the wall and held his arms back. He had no time to fight them off before he was clocked in the face twice. The first hit split his upper lip and the second left him with a black bruise around his organic eye. 

"Fuckers! I'll remember this!"

He shouted his promise and spat a mouthful of blood. As he fell backwards and slumped against the wall, the two just laughed. They slammed the door closed and disappeared back into the club, shutting out the music and leaving Victor seething in the quiet alley.

Victor took a moment to let his head stop spinning. He rubbed his bruised jaw. Those cheap shots hurt, but not as much as the idea that he'd need to find another 200k to pay back Scorpion. 

What was he going to do? He didn't have anything worth half that much and there was no way he could pull together that kind of sum on such short notice. Victor was already scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing any jobs he could find. Even working for scumbags that he used to think himself above dealing with.

There was the one job he turned down last week... But that was pure suicide. He wasn't at that point yet. He'd start by hitting up all his contacts to ask for a favor. After everything he's done over the years, someone would come through for him, right?

Victor picked himself up off the ground and left the alley. It was still the busiest part of the night, but no one gave his disheveled appearance a second glance. He dragged his tired body through the streets until he eventually made it to his apartment complex on the other side of the district.

The complex was owned by a company called 'Cozy Quarters'. It was a huge building with hundreds of identical units, each one no bigger than a cargo container. This was Scion's version of affordable housing. You could find a bigger place in the slums for the same price, but at least these apartments were clean and had decent security. There also wasn't any landlord to bother him. Everything was fully automated.

There were no stairs or floors even. Instead, the units were stacked on top of each other like crates facing outwards. After punching in the number for his unit, a two-axis elevator brought him straight to his apartment and dropped him off on the tiny balcony outside his door.

The lights came on by themselves as Victor entered. His home was just a studio apartment. In one corner, a foldout bed served as a couch and dining table. On the opposite wall was a kitchenette with a single hotplate, microwave, and sink. The bathroom was a cubicle barely big enough for a shower. There was also a small terminal where he could access Scion's network. 

Victor collapsed onto the bed and laid there staring at the ceiling. The cool sheets were refreshing against his skin. He was too tired to bother washing the grime and blood off his face. Right now all he wanted to do was rest. Everything else could wait until tomorrow. He closed his eyes and drifted off, not even bothering to kick off his boots.