Minz had a few hours before the block party, and he had a person whom he owed an explanation. Not that he owed, actually, but… They started hanging out, and he was fun, even though he was a cop. Probably because he was way smarter than anyone in there.
"What. The. Fuck."
Orion looked exhausted and unamused. He didn't pay any attention to the drink Minz ordered for him, even though it was his favorite.
"Imagine having a forty-eight-hour agonizing shift that ends with total turmoil at the police station. I arrive at the place to see an elderly officer having a heart attack because of two motherfucking strippers and a van stolen by some play-pretend service technicians. And then I learn that it was your doing."
"You knew that I am an edgerunner. What did you expect then?"
"I thought you were a Solo, not a stripper."
"Not my best performance, truth to be told. I haven't danced for quite a while, and I probably lost that magnetism I used to have back then. And… I feel awful for the man. Ken, was it? He said nobody remembered about his birthday. Even our piss-poor performance touched him because he sincerely believed someone cared… I couldn't help but wonder if the same was true for you."
Orion finally noticed his gin and drank a bit. "Like you care. Every single one of us is disposable and replaceable. The sooner you get it, the easier your life goes."
"That's why you run into random Solos and provoke them? To be disposed of and replaced?"
"Listen, we had some… good times. But it doesn't mean you are allowed to get under my skin, okay? I will not report you, and the truth behind this performance is dead with me. I shouldn't admit it, but your concern for this old fucker resonates with me deeply. That's why I allow you to roam freely."
A subtle smile curved Minz's lips just a bit. He was sipping his whiskey, looking at Orion finishing his gin and ordering one more. They first met at the same place, under almost the same circumstances. It ended up with a different kind of arrest, though, but Minz wasn't expecting a round of interrogation afterwards. Orion was fascinated with insects as well; he had a tough upbringing too; he was half German. They had a lot in common, even that darker depth of self-harm, that both of them acknowledged but never spoke about.
"Why would you get in contact with Nomads anyway? Other officers were saying that the van belonged to one of their kind, I guess?"
"Nuh-uh. You promised to bury the fact of my poor performance with you. But not the other half of the story. You made it clear that we can't trust each other yet. I can't be sure you won't pursue me and my crew with reinforcements."
"Make me busy, so I don't have time to."
"I don't want to. Not in a mood."
These words felt so special. About a year ago, Minz couldn't even dream of telling that to everyone who wanted to be "busy" with him. A simple "no" wasn't an option. Then. Not now.
Orion finished the third glass. Minz looked at his half-finished whiskey. He hated drinking with passion. But he could understand Orion. He used to drink as much, if not more. He poisoned himself with drugs and alcohol because his work was getting worse with each passing day. The people he had to please were unbearable. He had to be so drunk that he started forget forgetting. That he no longer sensed himself as a living being. That he didn't think about the outer world, which was absolutely indifferent.
"I remember when your birthday is. I am not going to strip at the station, though. Besides, I am no longer capable of dancing, so I don't think you'd like to see it anyway."
About to start his fourth glass, Orion stopped and put it back on the table.
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you to die of a heart attack."
"I mean… why do you care?"
Minz shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know. He didn't want to know. Some things happened because they happened, and he started embracing them as they are. He sincerely didn't want to add more misery to this already hopeless world. A centipede's bite is incredibly painful, but it only bites for self-defense. Minz was doing the same. Only mankind hurts the others for entertainment.
He will hurt and kill for survival purposes only. Even if the thrill of the hunt makes him excited.
He has a brother to take care of. He has his crew, who probably don't give a single flying fuck about him, but he cares about them much. He wants to live long enough to see Mila become a well-loved celebrity. He wants to visit Echowave's pizza place. He wants to see that goddamn Mister Andersson as one of the most demanded fixers in Night City. He wasn't sure of what Star's dreams were, but he sincerely wanted them to come true too. And yes, probably none of them deserved it. But Minz couldn't change the way he felt about them. In the end, the sheer kindness of the random rockerboy and his powerful patron gave him the chance of a lifetime.
"You are not going to last long, Minz. Your naivety will backfire sooner or later. The only person you should care about is you. You can portray yourself as a hero while remaining silent about the idiots who turned the police station topsy-turvy alongside you. It doesn't matter. Just remember that they will throw you under the bus without hesitation when the time comes."
"But it's your mindset. Not theirs. That's why I am not telling you anything about them or our ultimate goal. Now, if you excuse me, I have to go."
Minz got up, ready to pay for the drinks and take his leave.
"I expect you to dance for me at the police station on my birthday." Orion smiled at him.
"It will cost you quite a lot, I'm afraid. But we can negotiate on a private dance later."
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