The Key

Mephisto was good, too good. Three sips later it dawned on me that the old lady Sprock was a plant, the likes of which very nearly killed me. I smirked to myself. I was getting close.

Mephisto, the gullible Hunter, had no clue what mega Corp really was. MegaCorp was the face of science study grants, hospital wings, and cheap healthcare for all. They gave money to businesses and loans to people. Hell, this bar was probably funded by them. Every coin in this city had probably been washed by MegaCorp’s private launderers.

Behind all this was an unnamed mastermind of destruction. The peacefulness provided by MegaCorp’s money has allowed for a pacifist government to reign, tiptoeing through tulips blindly and shamefully at ease. There was a plot brewing and only I could feel it electrifying the air and blowing winds reeking of lies and deception through the abandoned alleys of the neon city.

Mephisto was the key. I needed her. I downed my martini in one huge gulp, tipped the waitress, and headed toward 19th.

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