Paying Taxes Is Every Citizen's Duty

"To the success of our deal. Cheers."

Doctor Death raised his beer bottle. General Ross picked up his glass to clink it against the bottle, only to find it was already empty. He called the bartender over and asked him to mix him another one of those strange-tasting cocktails. He didn't like the taste, but it made him feel very good.

But the bartender set a glass of whiskey in front of General Ross.

"Wait, I ordered that cocktail I had earlier." General Ross didn't take the whiskey. When he looked up, though, he saw the bartender staring at him in confusion.

"Sir, you've been drinking whiskey the whole time. You didn't order any cocktails... If you'd like, I can mix you one... I just imported a few kinds of baijiu from China. Would you like to try some?"

General Ross turned to look beside him, only to find that Doctor Death had vanished at some point, along with his briefcase bearing the vulture insignia, as if he had never been there.

The alcohol had slowed General Ross's thinking. Pointing to the empty spot one seat away, he asked, "There was a man sitting there just now. He ordered that cocktail for me, and we talked for a while."

"Sir, you've been drinking alone this whole time," the bartender said, unfazed. It was no surprise that General Ross was drunk after one glass after another, and it wasn't uncommon for him to get so plastered that he mistook his reflection in the mirror for a drinking companion.

"What the fuck." General Ross reached up to rub his forehead, only to find that he was clutching two things—a pair of oversized USB drives, or Gaia Memories, as Doctor Death had called them.

There was also a napkin with an address and