Deathstroke had only just come downstairs while the two were talking. He had just gotten familiar with the local taxi app, bought a package, and gotten into the car.
The black sedan looked imposing and sedate. Upon reaching the designated pickup spot in the skyscraper's underground parking lot, its rear door automatically swung open, accompanied by a brief clip of Samurai rock.
"Welcome back to Night City, Mr. Linder. According to my records, 475,340 hours have passed since you last appeared in this city. I am also pleased to inform you that your wanted notice was rescinded by Arasaka Corporation 475,300 hours ago."
Robert John Linder was Johnny Silverhand's real name, so Mr. Linder was not incorrect. This bald AI, Delamain, did not seem stupid after all.
"Well, well, not bad. Back when I used to run around Night City, there sure as fuck wasn't a Deadpan Face head in every taxi to chat with me. What can you do?"
The act continued. Deathstroke sat boldly in the middle of the back seat, opening with a fragrant little phrase.
The music stopped, the doors closed, and the vehicle began following its preset route. The AI that had been called Deadpan Face displayed no emotion and simply gave the optimal response according to its algorithms:
"Delamain Cab Company officially began operations in Night City in 2049. You had not previously purchased our transportation services, but things are different now. If one day you wish to leave your troubles outside the door, then it must be the door of a Delamain luxury cab. Delamain is Night City's only AI-managed taxi service, placing passenger safety and comfort above all else. Through efficient management and innovative technology, our pursuit of improved service quality never ends. We also sincerely hope to establish certain business partnerships