Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 230 Jack Wells (Eighth Update)

Jack frowned as he looked at the bar, which was noticeably emptier. "Mom, business... it seems much slower? Has our brand lost its appeal?"

Mrs. Wells pushed a glass of tequila, which Jack often drank, toward him, and then served drinks to the others in turn, sighing, "It's not that the brand isn't good enough, it's just that times have changed, Jack."

As she wiped the bar counter, she lowered her voice and said, "Ever since that 'manager'... that AI took over the city, the streets have indeed become much more peaceful."

There were fewer gunshots, and fewer random people.

This is a good thing; at least I don't have to worry about getting hit by stray bullets when I lock myself in my room at night.

She changed the subject, pointing to the empty booths: "But the rules are stricter now. The Valentino gang... has also toned it down a lot."

She glanced cautiously at the doorway, her voice lower, "Those jobs that used to be quick money but dangerous are no longer easy to do. The managers are keeping a close eye on things; those tin cans are no joke."

“The worst part is that there are fewer commissions now.” She continued, her wiping motions unconsciously quickening. “The infighting between companies has been suppressed, and gangs dare not easily start conflicts.”

There are naturally fewer 'dirty jobs' that mercenaries need to handle. The middlemen I know are all very cautious now and dare not issue missions lightly.”

Mrs. Wells put the cleaned glasses back on the shelf, a complicated expression on her face: "Many of our old customers, those mercenaries and middlemen, have either found legitimate jobs, left Night City, or simply stayed at home and stopped going out. Without them, the bar's business has naturally declined."

“Now, most of the people who come to drink are neighbors from the neighborhood,” she pointed to a few regulars drinking quietly in a corner, “or some relatively law-abiding gangsters, drinking some cheap beer and chatting. Unlike before, when they would spend lavishly and cause trouble at the drop of a hat.”

She looked at Jack, her tone calm yet carrying the weight of years: "To be honest, Jack, I've lived to this age, weathered corporate wars, and survived the most chaotic years on the streets. Now, like this..." She glanced around the somewhat deserted bar, "I can't say I like it. The streets are too quiet now, they've lost that warmth they used to have."

But I wouldn't say I hate it. At least I don't have to live in constant fear, afraid someone will pull out a gun in a bar or I'll be robbed on my way home.

She shook her head gently, her fingertips unconsciously tracing an old scratch on the bar: "It's just... I always feel uneasy. This Night City seems to have lost its soul, it's missing the energy it should have."

As Jack listened to his mother's words, his gaze swept over the empty booth, and a wave of indescribable sorrow welled up in his heart.

He had originally planned to showcase his influence in Heywood to his friends, using the familiar hustle and bustle to prove that he was still the well-connected Jack Wells.

But the scene before me was like a bucket of cold water poured over my heart.

His once-proud street status seems to be fading quietly under the impact of the new order.

He picked up his glass and downed the tequila in one gulp, the scalding liquid seeming to burn away the pent-up emotions in his chest.

He slammed his glass down on the bar, forcing an exaggerated smile: "Hey! If business is slow, at least it's safer! Mom, you can relax a bit more!"

His voice was deliberately raised, as if trying to convince himself, "Besides, I, Jack Wells, am back! I'll always find a way to make the Wild Wolves lively again! I'm hanging out with the Sage now!"

He glanced around at everyone, and then spoke his last words, "I'm hanging out with the sages now," with particular emphasis. It was both a pep talk to himself and a declaration to everyone—even though times had changed, Jack Wells could still find his place. But there was a hint of resentment and stubbornness in his tone.

Mann glanced at Jack, said nothing, and simply raised his glass.

Dorothy smiled, while Lucy quietly sipped her drink, her gaze occasionally sweeping over the few scattered regular customers in the bar, who were also secretly observing this group of "legendary" figures.

Rebecca had already jumped off the booth and was curiously examining the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner of the bar.

Valerie sat next to Jack, gently swirling the ice in her glass, the ice clinking softly.

She looked at Jack's forced smile and the hint of disappointment deep in his eyes, and understood.

She extended her mechanical right hand and patted Jack's shoulder, her voice calm yet carrying a rare hint of gentleness: "Jack, when order is first established, this is always the case during periods of turmoil."

"Sage, stability is necessary. Only after stability will opportunities arise. Your connections and foundation here will be invaluable in the future."

Her words offered little comfort, more of a realistic judgment. Jack paused, looked at Valerie, and seeing the unusual composure and certainty in her eyes, his inner turmoil seemed to subside somewhat.

He grinned, revealing a more genuine smile: "You're right, V! I'm a local big shot! I'll come in handy sometime! Come on, let's drink! We're not leaving until we're drunk! Mom, give me another one!"

Mrs. Wells smiled as she watched her son regain his spirits, and expertly poured him another glass: "That's right! Friends, don't just stand there, drink up! Try my corn chips, they're still the same old taste!"

Inside the bar, the warm lights remained, and although there weren't many customers, the lively atmosphere that Jack deliberately created and Mrs. Wells's thoughtful hospitality gradually enlivened the place.

The members of Mann's team relaxed in their seats, chatting in small groups about their recent experiences.

Rebecca had already set up the jukebox in the corner, and a catchy old song was playing in the room—the volume was just right, not too loud, but it did inject a long-lost vitality into the space.

Jack skillfully navigated between his friends and his mother, his hearty laughter ringing out frequently, perfectly playing the role of a hospitable host.

Only when he occasionally glances out the window and catches a glimpse of patrolling soldiers walking by in an orderly fashion, or when he is staring at the unusually quiet street, will his eyes momentarily dazed.

In this city where AI has redefined the rules, he, a local strongman who once navigated the chaos with ease, truly needs to rethink his future direction.

The Night City he knew, a place brimming with danger and opportunity, was undergoing a transformation, and Jack Wells had to find his place in the new order.

However, at this moment, under the familiar lights of the Wild Wolf Bar, surrounded by his close friends and family, he preferred to put these chaotic thoughts aside for the time being.

Raise your glass and let the laughter ring out. He is still the Jack Wells who gets along well on the streets of Heywood—the form may change, but his inherent generosity and sense of responsibility will never change.

(End of this chapter)