Luca ordered me to drive to a private hangar; inside, a sleek, state-of-the-art jet awaited us on the tarmac, its polished exterior reflecting the evening sunlight like a mirror. As we approached, the sharp, distinctive smell of jet fuel mingled with the clean, crisp air of the tarmac, and the soft hum of ground crew activity created a busy yet organized atmosphere.

  “Come on, you’ll like the pilot; he’s a good guy!” Luca assured me with a grin, his enthusiasm infectious.

  Stepping inside the jet felt like entering a luxurious mini suite. Plush leather seating enveloped us in comfort, and a small table in the center provided a space for conversation or refreshments.

  At the back of the plane, a compact shower compartment was equipped with elegant fixtures, including a rainfall showerhead that promised a refreshing cleanse during our journey.

  Upon landing in Mexico, the mood shifted dramatically as we were met by four imposing men dressed in black tactical gear, their serious expressions and military-style outfits making it clear they were part of a professional private military company. They guided us toward a sleek black limousine parked on the tarmac.

  Before we climbed into the sleek limousine, the men ordered us to don blindfolds. Without hesitation, I took the black cloth and wrapped it firmly around my eyes, plunging myself into darkness.

  The limo glided smoothly through the sprawling, sun-soaked Mexican desert, leaving me with nothing but a knot in my stomach. I could only cling to the hope that we were being taken to the right place and not falling victim to a kidnapping.

  When the vehicle finally came to a halt, we stepped out onto warm, sun-baked earth. With a swift movement, the soldiers peeled the blindfolds away from our eyes. The brilliant sunlight struck me like a wave, momentarily blinding me, its warmth radiating against my skin as I adjusted to my surroundings.

  On the polished marble doorway, I noticed Don Valgus standing with an air of casual confidence. His meticulously gelled hair caught the sunlight, casting a soft golden shimmer, while his fitted shirt clung to his athletic frame. The top few buttons were delightfully undone, allowing a glimpse of a gleaming golden chain that rested against his chest.

  He exuded a relaxed yet sophisticated vibe, striking a perfect balance between being approachable and maintaining an air of authority.

  “Ah, Mr. Almano! It’s great to see you finally!” he exclaimed, his voice rich with a charming accent, though his English was tinged with a hint of a foreign lilt. His smile widened as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Luca in a friendly embrace that suggested a longstanding camaraderie.

  “Say... you look familiar. Have we met before?” Don Valgus inquired, his eyes narrowing playfully as he scrutinized Luca's face for recognition.

  “No, we haven’t met before,” Luca replied, his tone steady yet cordial. He turned to me, gesturing with a fluid motion. “This is my right-hand man, Mr. Carver.”

  Don Valgus flashed a welcoming smile, then ushered us into his lavish home. We found ourselves in his expansive garden, where the atmosphere was serene and fragrant, filled with the rich scent of blooming flowers and the soft sound of a nearby fountain.

  Almost immediately, three elegantly dressed servers approached, offering us a selection of gourmet lunch options that showcased an array of colors and flavors, their professionalism evident in every deliberate movement.

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  “I apologize if you had something to eat before arriving, but I want to get right to business,” Valgus stated as he casually took a bite of his meticulously prepared salad, his gaze returning to us with an intensity that emphasized his serious intentions.

  Luca leaned forward, his voice steady and clear. “We are willing to buy fifteen kilos for forty-five grand and distribute them throughout the city at a fair price,” he explained, the confidence radiating from him as his eyes locked onto Valgus’s.

  “And how do you plan to get it into the city without drawing attention?” Valgus probed, his brow slightly furrowed in contemplation.

  “Well, there are several ways that we could bring the product into Night City, but the way that we have thought of is having a driver arrive in a location called the Badlands; from there, we’ll have one of our guys collect the truck and bring it to a warehouse. From there, we would begin selling the product all over the city,” Luca replied decisively. “I have access to a private hangar that we could use to securely store the product, minimizing any risks related to transport.”

  Don Valgus considered this carefully, nodding slowly as his eyes narrowed in thought. “It’s a good idea, but potentially risky. Tell me, how much would you be selling the meth for?” he asked, his tone shifting to one of cold calculation.

  “Given that we primarily operate in the wealthiest part of the city, the minimum we can offer is one hundred and fifteen,” Luca detailed, his eyes unwavering, fully prepared for Don Valgus’s response.

  “I like the sound of that.” Valgus sat up, his tone shifting to one of enthusiasm. “Come, let me show you around the place.”

  Don Valgus guided us through his bustling factory, nestled deep within the lush, green embrace of the forest. The air was filled with the rhythmic thrum of machinery, each piece working in harmony with the others, creating a symphony of productivity.

  Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting patterns on the polished concrete floor and illuminating the concentrated faces of employees as they skillfully operated their stations.

  As we moved further into the heart of the factory, Don Valgus stopped and handed us a sleek, modern nasal inhaler that had the methylamine inside.

  Its ergonomic design, crafted from sturdy yet lightweight materials, reflected a careful blend of form and function. The device gleamed under the overhead lights, a testament to the innovative spirit that permeated every corner of the factory.

  Don Valgus took a freshly crafted inhaler from the sleek, black case he always carried and handed it over to Luca.

  Luca accepted the inhaler with a hint of eagerness, lifting it to his left nostril. He inhaled deeply, his eyes widening as the potent substance coursed through him.

  “Fuck me, that’s some good shit,” he exclaimed, a rush of adrenaline evident in the way he leaned back slightly, his expression awash with excitement.

  Don Valgus glanced at me, his sharp gaze silently urging me to partake. I stood my ground, shaking my head firmly.

  “No thanks. I work best sober,” I replied, my voice steady and resolute.

  As we stepped out of the factory, we made our way back to the sprawling garden; the fresh air greeted us with a crispness that contrasted the stifling atmosphere inside. The garden, meticulously landscaped, unfolded before us, resplendent in the afternoon sun.

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Don Valgus,” Luca said, taking in the grandeur of the surroundings. “You’ve got it all—the magnificent house, money, and this breathtaking view.” The verdant hills stretched into the horizon, a testament to his success.

  A smile graced Valgus’s face, warm at first. “I like you, Luca. There’s nothing but honesty in you,” he commented, the underlying tone suggesting a begrudging respect.

  However, the smile faltered, replaced by a more serious demeanor as he leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping to a low, intense whisper.

  “Which is why I will tell you this one time and one time only... Don’t fuck with me. Don’t you ever try to fuck me.”

  Valgus chuckled softly. “We can finalize this partnership tomorrow,” he said, gesturing elegantly towards the door. “I have a limo outside that will take you back to your jet. Hopefully, the two of you will be here in time for lunch.”