A New Job

Chapter 21: A New Job

As Kestrel watched, the sky outside gradually brightened, and the rain softened from a steady drizzle to a mere mist.

He knew he couldn't continue like this—just sitting around wouldn't put food on the table.

With a sharp inhale, he rubbed his face vigorously until his skin flushed red, shaking off his drowsiness. Straightening his posture, he steeled himself for the day ahead.

"TPAL, wake up. We need to find something to eat today, even if it means taking it by force!"

Just as he pulled on his freshly dried coat from the laundry unit, a notification popped up in the upper-right corner of his neural interface. A flickering icon of PAUL's face appeared, buzzing incessantly.

With a slight hesitation, Kestrel accepted the call, and immediately, PAUL's tattooed face filled his vision.

"Yo~~ long time no see, bro!"

"What's up? Calling to pay back what you owe?" Kestrel asked impatiently.

"Pay you back? Man, I'd have to actually have money first. Do I look rich to you?"

"If you've got nothing important to say, I'm hanging up." Hunger gnawed at Kestrel's insides, making him irritable—so much so that he almost felt like taking a bite out of PAUL's face.

"Wait, wait, wait! Don't hang up, bro! You're looking for work, right? I've got a job for you—big payout!"

"Who told you I was looking for work?" Kestrel felt a creeping unease, as if his privacy had been invaded.

"Your TPAL, of course! He asked me if I had any gigs. If he hadn't mentioned it, I'd have given the job to someone else by now."

Kestrel turned and smacked the charging TPAL. "Can you stop being so damn proactive? Maybe ask me first next time?"

TPAL scoffed. "() Oh, come on. Didn't you tell me to find you a job? Do you even listen to yourself? You're starving. Drop the act. If I hadn't asked around, you'd be dead in here with no one to bury you."

With a resigned shake of his head, Kestrel turned back to PAUL. "What's the job?"

"A good one! If we pull this off, you and your bot are looking at a solid five DogeCoins!"

Kestrel's expression remained neutral. He wasn't the same clueless rookie he had been when he first arrived. His prior job hunts had taught him the actual worth of DogeCoins.

For just 0.15 DogeCoins a week, you could hire someone desperate enough to risk their life for you. Five DogeCoins was an astronomical sum—there had to be a catch.

"What exactly is the job?" He folded his arms, scrutinizing PAUL.

"Simple. We need to retrieve something."

"What kind of 'something'?" Kestrel, despite his hunger, wasn't about to walk blindly into a trap.

Before PAUL could answer, the screen wobbled slightly. "Shit, someone's coming. I'll send you the address—just come check it out. It's a team job, you won't be alone. Oh, and there's a hot chick involved~~!"

Kestrel had been hesitant at first, but the moment he saw the meeting point—a restaurant—he didn't waste another second. He threw on his coat and bolted for the door.

"TPAL, stop whining and move! We're finally getting a meal!"

Riding TPAL, Kestrel sped toward the given address, only to find himself stunned by the sight before him.

"You sure this is a place that serves food? Because it looks more like somewhere you'd get food poisoning." TPAL tilted its head.

The so-called restaurant was nothing more than a rundown bar beneath an overpass.

The establishment's name, "Hot Dog Diner," wasn't out of place in this city, but its state of disrepair certainly was.

Towering heaps of black and blue garbage bags threatened to collapse the sagging roof. A tilted neon hot dog sign flickered erratically, spitting sparks with every failed attempt to stay lit. The ground was riddled with potholes, stagnant puddles of murky water reflecting the city's dim glow.

"Well, we're already here. Might as well check it out. Keep your gun loaded," Kestrel muttered before stepping inside.

The moment he entered, he was surprised to see the place was actually quite crowded. Groups of rough-looking individuals—cybernetically enhanced, dressed in mismatched gear, all exuding an air of quiet menace—huddled around the bar's rickety tables.

Judging by the barren tabletops, none of them were here for the food.

"Yo!" A metallic hand shot up from the corner, waving. "Over here, bro!"

Kestrel frowned but made his way over, ready to give PAUL a piece of his mind. But just as he opened his mouth, something—or rather, someone—caught his attention.

Sitting across from PAUL was a woman, draped in a semi-transparent, neon-green raincoat. Underneath, she wore a short-sleeved crop top and tight shorts, her long legs crossed effortlessly.

Her hair, if it could be called that, was composed of glowing violet fiber-optic strands, braided into a sleek ponytail at the back of her head. A small chip, embedded at her temple, blinked rapidly—she was clearly occupied with something in cyberspace.

"Come on, sit, sit!" PAUL grinned and pulled Kestrel onto a seat beside him. "Let me introduce you. This here is Ilta, our team's field medic and engineer."

At the mention of her name, the flickering chip on Ilta's temple dimmed as she turned to look at Kestrel. She gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

"Oh? Ilta?" Kestrel repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "Nice name." He extended a hand. "I'm Kestrel."

Ilta glanced at his outstretched hand, her lips curling into an amused smirk. Then, without hesitation, she reached forward and gripped his hand firmly.

"I like you," she said, her tone playful. "You're mine for the night."

Before Kestrel could even process her words, her fingers began trailing down his arm.

Instantly, alarm bells blared in his mind. Shit. She's trying to rob me.

Heart pounding, he bolted upright and swiftly swapped seats with TPAL, shoving the bot between them.

Ilta didn't seem fazed in the slightest. Instead, she merely redirected her attention to TPAL. "Hey there, handsome," she cooed, fingers grazing its chassis. "That's some expensive hardware you've got. Must've cost a fortune."

"N-no, no, no," TPAL stammered, recoiling as if its circuits were shorting out. "Σ(゜ロ゜;) Please don't touch me! I am NOT compatible with your… XP!"

Watching the scene unfold, Kestrel sighed. He couldn't just stand by and let his bot suffer. With a deadpan expression, he pointed at TPAL's head and stated, "Just so you know—he's female."

Ilta immediately withdrew her hand, her interest evaporating. "Ugh. Never mind."

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