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墨書 Inktalez
When Ren and Lysias pushed open the heavy iron door and entered the bar, the first thing that caught their eyes was a thick haze of cigarette smoke, with colorful, flickering lights. The neon lights on the walls emitted a variety of colors, sometimes making the whole space feel like a dream, and at other times casting clear shadows.
In the spacious bar, the air was filled with a sweet and spicy mix of alcohol, along with a hint of perfume and sweat. The chandeliers on the ceiling kept spinning, occasionally emitting flashes of light like flashbangs, illuminating the group of passionate Mercenaries.
The netrunner gathered in the corner of the semi-private booth, with multiple electronic devices and projection equipment in front of them, engaged in intense discussion about the transmission of a new type of virus. Their eyes reflected intelligence and vigilance, their fingers swiftly gliding over the projection equipment, displaying strings of code.
The Solo sat on a high stool in front of the bar. Their tall and robust figure gleamed with prosthetics, emitting occasional low mechanical sounds. They exchanged the latest tactics and equipment upgrades while savoring the most exquisite whiskey in the bar with their highball glass in hand.
The rockers were wearing tight leather pants and studded leather jackets. Under the lights, the metallic accessories and tattoos on their skin shone like works of art, emitting a charming glow. They danced to the heavy rhythm of the music in the dance floor, their hair flying, each jump attracting the attention of the nearby audience.
Ren and Lysias found a round table near the dance floor and sat down. The bar in the center of the bar was filled with a variety of bottles, and the bartender behind it was busy mixing various alcohols. His movements were skilled and quick, occasionally performing difficult tricks such as spinning glasses and igniting alcohol, attracting everyone's attention. The music and noisy chatter in the bar, accompanied by the crisp sound of clinking glasses, created a unique atmosphere.
Ren took out a silver cigarette case, opened it, selected a cigarette, handed one to Lysias, and lit one for himself. After taking a deep drag, they exhaled the rich aroma slowly, and the smoke danced in front of them with the light, carrying away the fatigue of the day.
The bartender, a middle-aged man in a black vest and worn-out jeans with several distinct tattoos on his arms, walked over. He glanced at the ashtray on Ren and Lysias's table and said with a smile, "Hey, long time no see! What, have you completed another important mission?" His voice carried a sense of warmth and familiarity, as if he had a deep bond with these two mercenaries.
Ren smiled slightly, "Well, I've had some trouble today and need a drink to relax a bit."
The bartender looked at Lysias and asked, "And what about you, old man?"
Lysias chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "You should know that as long as Ren is around, I'll definitely be there too."
The bartender smiled and nodded. "So, what will you be drinking tonight?"
Ren pondered for a moment and said, "Give me a glass of whiskey, preferably aged."
Lysias waved his hand, "Bring me a classic rum, with some ice."
The bartender took note and said, "Alright, coming right up." He turned and walked towards the bar, beginning to mix their drinks.
Ren and Lysias leaned back in their tall bar chairs, each smoking a cigarette. In the noisy bar, people laughed, chatted, and argued, while music constantly filled the air. The two of them gazed from the bartender at the bar, to the dancers on the dance floor, and then to the Mercenary trading in the corner, observing quietly without a specific target.
In the midst of the hustle and bustle, Lysias smirked and blew a perfect smoke ring, then turned to look at Ren with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "Do you know, Ren, that After Life has a tradition? They record the favorite drinks of legendary figures in Night City before they passed, and use their names as the names of those drinks."
Ren quietly watched the smoking cigarette in his hand, took a deep breath, and then exhaled the smoke. He didn't directly answer, just nodded slightly to indicate that he knew about it. His gaze shifted to the various drinks displayed in the bar, some of whose names he was familiar with, as they all had a heroic or tragic story behind them.
Lysias smiled and said, "Night City is like this, full of stories. Everyone has left their mark here." He took a puff of his cigarette and tapped the ash into the ashtray, "I just wonder, after we're gone, will there be a cocktail called 'Ren' or 'Lysias' here?"
The bartender brought over two exquisite cocktails, skillfully placing them on the bar. In front of Ren was a deep amber-colored aged whiskey with delicate ice floating on top. As time passed, a harmonious balance formed between the whiskey and the ice. In Lysias's glass was a clear rum, filled with tropical fruit fragrance, with ice cubes making a "drip-drop" sound, seemingly singing to the warm yellow light.
Lysias lifted his rum, gently swirled it, and watched the light reflecting in the liquid in the glass. Then he deeply sniffed, sensing the sweetness with a hint of strength. After that, he took a small sip, feeling the strong liquor quickly spread in his mouth, warming his entire chest.
Setting down the glass, he turned to Ren with curiosity in his eyes. " Ren, have you ever wanted to become a legend in Night City? The kind of figure that everyone fears and admires, with every story and adventure becoming the inspiration for others, even in the creation of a cocktail."
Ren didn't answer immediately. He looked at the whiskey in his hand, as if searching for an answer. After a moment of silence, he looked up and said in a somewhat sorrowful tone, "Everyone has dreams, but in Night City, the line between dreams and reality is very blurry. Legends are just words; what truly matters is what you gain and what you lose in the process."
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