Chapter 87: A Taste of the High Life

The next morning, Jax woke before the sun had even fully breached the horizon. He couldn’t help it—he was wired. Today was the day he returned to Redrock Bastion, not as a refugee, but as a conqueror.

Restless, and with hours to kill before their scheduled departure, he occupied himself in the kitchen.

When Sawyer finally stumbled downstairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the aroma of sizzling oil and spices hit him like a physical force. He froze in the doorway, staring at the figure by the stove.

“I didn’t take you for a cook, Jax,” Sawyer said, blinking in surprise.

Jax glanced over his shoulder, a spatula in hand. “Idle hands. I needed to kill time, and your pantry was stocked. Figured I’d make something decent.”

“You didn’t have to,” Sawyer said, waving a hand dismissively. “We have staff for that. Their skills are… adequate.”

The maid standing in the corner offered a helpless, silent look, clearly terrified of offending either the master of the house or his terrifying guest.

“I prefer my food with a kick,” Jax said, plating up two bowls. “Made a spicy breakfast. Hope your stomach can handle it, Sawyer.”

Sawyer hesitated, eyeing the red sheen on the noodles, but nodded politely. “I can handle a little heat. Though… chili oil first thing in the morning? Is that safe?”

Jax grinned, a sharp, predatory expression. “It wakes you up better than caffeine. Here. Youpo noodles. Hot oil splash. Dig in.”

He shoved a steaming bowl into Sawyer’s hands. The ceramic was scorching, and Sawyer nearly fumbled it, juggling the bowl before setting it down on the island.

Sawyer took a tentative bite. His eyes widened instantly.

“Holy hell,” Sawyer mumbled around the mouthful. “This… this is incredible. Best noodles I’ve ever had.”

Jax slurped his own portion, indifferent. “It’s passable. Just threw it together. So, when do wheels go up?”

“Uh… I thought we agreed on this afternoon?”

Jax sighed, checking the wall clock. “Nine o’clock. You’re killing me here.”

The wait was excruciating.

By noon, Jax’s patience had evaporated completely, so he channeled his nervous energy back into the kitchen. He prepared a massive, bubbling hotpot loaded with peppers and numbing peppercorns.

Sawyer, despite sweating profusely and looking like he might need medical attention, couldn’t stop eating. The flavor was addictive, even if he knew he’d be paying the price on the toilet later. He endured the impending ring of fire purely for the taste.

By dinner, Jax was pacing. He was ready to leave hours ago.

Finally, Director Kaine arrived. The pragmatic manager of the Helios Syndicate stepped into the villa, took one sniff of the air, and his professional veneer cracked.

“Ahem. Jax? Are you planning to set up shop here as a chef?”

Jax slammed a ladle down. “Finally. You’re here. Let’s go.”

Kaine blinked, eyeing the bubbling pot left on the stove. “Uh… aren’t you going to invite me to eat first?”

“Eat? We’re burning daylight!” Jax snapped. “You show up empty-handed to mooch a meal? Is that how the Syndicate does business?”

Kaine’s stomach betrayed him with a loud growl. He reached into his suit pocket and produced a sleek, metallic card.

“Who said I came empty-handed? Here.”

Jax snatched the card. It was a high-clearance Identity Card for Redrock Bastion, embossed with his name. A grin broke across his face. “Now we’re talking.”

Then, his brow furrowed. “Wait. One card? We agreed on three.”

“Feed me, and I’ll give you the rest,” Kaine bargained, eyeing the beef slices.

“No deal. Goods first, then payment.”

Kaine sighed, recognizing a losing battle. He handed over two more cards.

Jax inspected them closely. One for himself, one for Barnaby, and one for Elena. Barnaby was technically a wanted man in certain circles, and Elena’s status at the Lounge was likely off the books. Without these, they were liabilities. With them, they were citizens.

“Pleasure doing business,” Jax said, tucking the cards away. “Sit down. The beef is fresh.”

The meal was a blur of steam and negotiation. Kaine was a decent sort—competent, transactional, and not overly eager to kiss up to the main branch of the family. He and Sawyer had a working relationship, but they weren’t exactly blood brothers.

The moment the last piece of meat was consumed, Jax hustled them out the door.

Sawyer waved them off from the porch, looking relieved to have his house back, and Jax settled into the back of the luxury sedan. The engine purred, a smooth, refined sound that felt alien in the wasteland.

Returning to Redrock Bastion felt… heavy.

A month ago, Jax had been trash. A slum rat scraping by in the outer rim, invisible and expendable.

Now, he was returning in a leather-seated convoy, an official citizen of the Middle District.

The city loomed out of the darkness, a fortress of steel and concrete. Redrock Bastion was stratified like a layer cake: The Inner City for the warlords and apex powers; the Middle District for the merchants, minor families, and corporate officers; and the Outer City for the dregs.

Jax had spent his life staring at the wall separating the Outer and Middle districts. Crossing it was the dream of every scavenger.

Underdog turned tycoon, Jax thought, a smirk touching his lips. Not bad for a month’s work.

The convoy reached the main gates.

Last time, Jax had stood in a line for hours, only to be sneered at. Tonight, the Helios Syndicate emblem on the hood acted like a master key. The massive blast doors groaned open without a single question asked.

The guards didn’t even look at Jax. To them, he was just another silhouette in a rich man’s car. But Jax recognized the captain—the same man who had threatened to shoot him for loitering weeks ago.

“Clear to pass!” the captain shouted, snapping a lazy salute.

Kaine didn’t even acknowledge him. The driver gunned the engine, bypassing the slums entirely and heading straight for the internal checkpoint.

The Middle District was separated by a second, formidable wall. This one wasn’t just concrete; it was bristling with active defenses.

Jax pressed his face to the glass. The turrets here were different. Sleek, glowing with mana residue, automated tracking systems humming.

Tier 4… maybe even Tier 5 Defense Towers, Jax noted, his pulse quickening. The firepower on display could level a small army.

“We’re here, Jax,” Kaine said, nudging him.

Jax blinked, snapping out of his tactical analysis. He had been so focused on the defenses he’d almost forgotten his primary objective: The Elysium Lounge.

“Thanks,” Jax said.

“If you ever want to deepen your cooperation with the Syndicate, my door is open,” Kaine said smoothly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Don’t forget, our current deal is still ongoing. Call me if you need anything.” Kaine handed him a personal business card. “Your villa has a landline. Use it.”

The car stopped. Jax stepped out, and the door clicked shut behind him.

He stood on the pavement, staring up.

It was a detached villa. A real one. Not a repurposed ruin, but a pristine, pre-apocalypse style mansion.

In his past life, he’d slaved away to pay the mortgage on a shoebox apartment. Now, amidst the end of the world, he owned a palace.

Life is a comedy, Jax thought.

He pinched his thigh. Hard. The pain was sharp and grounding.

“Hah! It’s real. Good job, me.”

He unlocked the front door. The sensor panel flared to life as he pressed his thumb against it.

[Access Granted] “Welcome home.”

The soft, synthetic voice sent a shiver down his spine. He stepped inside, and the cool embrace of air conditioning washed over him.

“AC? You’re kidding me. That is… glorious.”

He didn’t walk; he sprinted to the massive living room sofa and dove onto it, burying his face in the plush cushions.

“This is the life,” he groaned. “This is what we fight for.”

He spent twenty minutes touring the place. Ten bedrooms. Three studies. Twelve bathrooms—why anyone needed twelve was beyond him, but he wasn’t complaining. Two entertainment rooms. It was fully furnished, impeccably clean, and completely empty.

It was better than anything he’d known before the world fell apart.

He checked the grandfather clock in the hall. Midnight.

“I wonder if the Lounge is still open.”

The thought of Elena pushed the comfort of the sofa from his mind. He went upstairs to the master suite, raided the closet, and found a suit that fit. The tags were still on it.

Dressed in formal wear that felt slightly stiff, Jax left the villa and headed toward the city center.

The Middle District was a different planet. The streets were paved. The streetlights worked. And looming in the center was a skyscraper bathed in neon light.

The Elysium Lounge.

It was massive. Far larger than he expected.

He circled the perimeter, taking it in. The parking lot was a showroom of luxury vehicles—sleek sports cars and armored limousines that looked like they belonged in a cyberpunk magazine, not a wasteland.

It was jarring. Just a few miles away, people were eating rats and fighting over clean water. Here, they were burning fuel for neon signs.

“Two different worlds,” Jax muttered, adjusting his collar.

He walked up to the grand entrance, confidence high.

He was stopped immediately.

“Membership card,” the doorman said, his voice flat. He was a slab of muscle in a tuxedo, blocking the path like a blast door.

Jax froze. Right. Exclusive club.

He watched people stream in past him, flashing gold and platinum cards. He stood there, dressed like a prince but holding nothing.

“Looks like I missed a step,” Jax muttered. He scanned the crowd, wondering if he could spot Elena or someone he could bribe.

Just then, a young man in a sharp suit detached himself from a group of smokers and sauntered over. He had a slick, predatory smile.

“Hey there, friend,” the man said, looking Jax up and down. “You look unfamiliar. First time at the Elysium?”