40. How should I spend this money...

"Who are you..."

While Oliver was still feeling puzzled, Maine stood up. "Dorio, why are you here?"

"An acquaintance of yours?" Jack watched Maine's reaction and began to piece things together.

"Dorio, a member of my crew." Maine introduced her, then turned to introduce Carl and the others to Dorio: "Karl, Jack, Oliver—the friends I told you about, the ones I met on the last job."

"I figured as much. Hello, everyone." Dorio greeted Carl and the group with a smile, then her expression turned serious as she looked at Maine. "Maine, there's something that needs your attention."

"Did something happen, Dorio? I was just about to have a drink with Karl and the guys..." Maine could tell from Dorio's expression that unless it was a matter requiring his immediate and decisive judgment, she wouldn't have interrupted him. Even so, he didn't mind discussing it right in front of Karl and the others.

Dorio glanced at Carl and the others, opening her mouth to speak, but Carl raised a hand to stop her. "Maine, since your crew member needs you, you should head back first. Catching up can wait for another time."

Although Maine and Dorio were friendly and treated them like friends, not minding if team business was discussed openly, friendship and propriety were two different things. As a friend, Carl appreciated Maine's trust, but as a friend, it was better not to listen in on certain matters.

"No rush for next time either. I'll buy you a drink then, Maine." Jack raised his nearly finished glass in a toast to Maine, and Oliver nodded, lifting his glass as well.

Maine looked at the three of them, nodded, and smiled. "You'd better buy some good booze next time, then."

"Guaranteed to satisfy."

Amidst Jack's voice, Maine and his crewmate Dorio left the Afterlife. Before heading out, Maine raised his unfinished bottle of beer toward the three of them once more.

*Next time, we'll properly drink to this.*

***

That was probably the gist of it.

After Maine left, Carl and the others lost their appetite for staying at the Afterlife. The main reason was Carl—the drinks at the Afterlife were great, but they didn't serve good French fries, and the longer Carl stayed, the more restless he got.

"Let's swing by Mrs. Welles' place to pick up some fries, grab some food and drinks on the way, and head back to Oliver's apartment. How's that sound?"

"Don't make it sound like going to my apartment is like going home, Carl... Come to think of it, why is it always my room for these gatherings? Your place is just as good."

Sitting in the driver's seat and acting as their designated driver once more, Oliver voiced a mild complaint.

"My room..." Carl reminisced about his own apartment. "While it wouldn't be a problem, I still think Oliver's room is better."

"And why is that?"

"My room doesn't pay for the private phone and TV package... Meaning, if we want to watch anything at my place during a hangout, we have to fork over extra cash."

...

Hearing Carl's reasoning, Oliver somehow found it thoroughly convincing. But after a moment of thought, he pointed out, "Wait a minute, I remember the TV deposit is only fifty eddies, plus one eurodollar per hour of viewing. Aren't you loaded right now, man?"

"It's the principle of the thing. Save where you can, spend where you must."

Carl was quite particular about this. Whenever they hung out, he was usually the one footing the bill for snacks and drinks, which easily added up to far more than a TV rental. But spending money on actual food and drinks felt entirely different from paying a subscription fee just to watch something.

Back before the year 2075, Carl would hesitate for quite a while before subscribing to a ten-dollar music streaming service, yet he wouldn't hesitate for a second to order an entire spread of barbecue. Perhaps it was just an ingrained habit carried over from his past life.

Sitting in the car as Oliver drove toward El Coyote Cojo, Carl checked his account balance of 1.12 million eddies and genuinely wondered how he should spend the money.

"You two, seen any high-end cyberware you've had your eyes on? Guns or cars work too. I wouldn't mind sponsoring you."

Hearing Carl's offer, Oliver glanced sideways from the driver's seat. "Not planning on getting any special upgrades for yourself?"

"I'll swing by Viktor's later to upgrade my cyberdeck to a better model, and maybe reinstall a new strand of monowire. That shouldn't cost too much... I haven't decided if I want to go any further with full-body conversions. I still need to keep a few scraps of meat on my bones; if I ended up looking like Adam Smasher, I couldn't bear it."

***

"Is that so..."

Oliver thought about what he might be lacking. There was no need to stand on ceremony with Carl, and getting some good cyberware would indeed boost the team's combat effectiveness. If they had possessed a decent weapon or piece of tech back during that last firefight, Oliver wouldn't have had to watch Carl single-handedly take on powered armor and an ACPA. Yet, after pondering it for a moment, Oliver couldn't think of any particular piece of cyberware he desperately needed.

He was practically wealthy now; spending over a hundred thousand eddies on a new tech sniper rifle wouldn't be a problem at all, and he'd still have plenty left over. There didn't seem to be any real need for Carl's sponsorship.

"Jack, is there anything you're short on? I seem to have plenty of spare cash on my end."

Realizing he didn't need anything special himself, Oliver turned to ask Jack, offering a suggestion: "Why don't you get yourself a pair of gorilla arms? Your aim when shooting would be steady as a rock."

"I'm not touching those," Jack said with a laugh. "Vik and I met in the boxing ring, you guys know that. Vik used to be a boxer himself; he retired because he got depressed seeing fighters on the ring replacing their limbs with chrome. I always want to leave Vik with a good memory, help him win back some glory in the ring, so getting gorilla arms just wouldn't sit right with me."

"What about a bike then? I remember you eyeing a motorcycle a while back. Didn't you say it was pretty expensive? How about grabbing one? Cruising around with Misty afterward would be a lot more comfortable."

"You mean the Nazare? I've already saved up enough for that little beauty—fourteen thousand eddies. I was planning to pick one up as soon as we got back. I've got the cash, no need for you guys to chip in... Besides, I don't even know if Misty would like riding around on the back of my bike. Maybe a sports car would be better?"

"As for Misty, I'm sure she'd be happy to ride with you anywhere, as long as you're the one driving," Carl chimed in, patting the car seat. "Speaking of cars, ever since I bought this one, we rarely take Oliver's Thrax Quartz anymore. Riding in the Thrax Herrera feels pretty standard now too. Maybe I should upgrade to an even better car—something bulletproof. I really don't want to go through what we experienced on that last mission ever again."

"Oh, come on. To get a vehicle that can withstand a rocket-propelled grenade, a million eddies won't even scratch the surface. Don't waste your money. This car is great, I love driving it, let's not swap it."

Compared to Carl, the actual owner, Oliver seemed to have a much deeper attachment to the Thrax Herrera. Then again, that made sense. Unlike Carl, who had never even touched the steering wheel and always rode in the back like some spoiled young master—either lounging or lazily kicking back—Oliver was the one actually driving, so his bond with the car ran much deeper.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to keep looking, then."

How on earth should he spend this money...?