Making It in Night City

V's POV

I made a right under the Hanford Overpass and pulled into a basketball court. I drove past the hoops and parked in the ally behind an old bar. El Coyote Cojo was a local staple in The Glen, and I have a lot of fond memories of the place. Drinking with pals, taking shady jobs, and hooking up with drunk chicks. The usual bar stuff. This was where I started as a merc after my life with the Valentinos.

The Valentinos took me in at a young age. Like many other young orphans in Haywood, it was my only option. Well, other than starve or start selling myself to pedos on the street. Sure, I was interested in all the cash and jewelry they were always flashing around, but I think I just wanted to be a part of a group. I wanted to taste what having a family is like.

The Valentinos started me out by having me be a drug mule for them. The cops tended to frisk children less than adults, especially adorable little school girls like me. Then I started selling drugs and being the muscle for protection rackets. Of course, once I was older, I saw that the gang wasn't trying to be my family. 

Sure, I made friends, but I always had to keep an eye on my back. Some rival gang could see me walking down the street, and they'd flatline me just for existing. Or worse, some gonk in my gang decided they wanted to move up the ranks, and I was in the way. Everybody only had their best interest in mind, and the top dogs kept the infighting at the bottom so we couldn't rise and topple them. It wasn't really any different than being a corpo rat.

I parked near the rear entrance and got out of my car. There were several loud thumps from the rear of my car, and I turned to see the vehicle slightly rise up and down following the beat of the thumps. It seems like my passenger is starting to get restless. I walked to the alley entrance to the bar and knocked on it a few times. A while later, the door slid open, and a middle-aged woman greeted me.

"Good morning, V."

"Good morning, Mama Welles. The guy is in the trunk."

Mama Welles was the mother of Jackie. She always looked out for me. When I was with the Valentinos, when I started doing solo work, when I returned to Night City, and even now. She looked at my car, nodded, then turned around and yelled while leaning past the doorway.

"Pepe! Get your lazy ass over here!"

A deep grunt sounded from further in the bar. Moments later, a big bearded man with a gold arm wearing a faux crocodile skin vest walked out. The burly guy was Pepe Najarro, the best bartender on this side of the city. We got along pretty well, and I got some of my first gigs from him. The kind of clientele the bar pulled meant Pepe always had something going on. Whether it was because patrons wanted to use his connections to get a job done or wasted gangers were shit at keeping their mouths, Pepe always had the inside scoop.

We walked over to the rear of my car, and I popped the trunk open. Hellman was thrashing around in there. At first, he thought he was finally saved after seeing a new face, but the hope quickly faded when I stepped back around. Pepe grabbed Hellman's feet while I lifted him under his arms, then we started walking into the bar. When Hellman started twisting and shaking too much, I punched him in his nose and gave him a death stare to cut the crap. He got the message and calmed down.

No one was inside the bar since Mama Welles closed the place. I doubt any of her customers would snitch on her, but better to be safe than sorry. We walked past the pool table and slot machines and entered the main lounge on the first floor. My heart dropped when I got a quick glimpse at the memorial for Jackie and remembered the day we raided Konpeki Tower. Mama Welles must have noticed and patted me on the shoulder before guiding us further into the bar. 

I recovered and followed Mama Welles to a supply closet behind the bar. We dumped Hellman on a chair inside, and I checked his bindings while Pepe covered the small glass window on the door with some newspaper. Once we were all outside, Mama Welles closed and locked the door, tucking the keys into her jeans.

She grabbed me by my arm and took me to a small booth in the corner. Mama Welles pushed me down into the bench while she sat opposite me. She then yelled her order to Pepe, who was already behind the counter.

"Two glasses of whiskey, Pepe!"

"You got it!"

Mama Welles focused back on me.

"Mi dulce niña, you gotta stop beating yourself up about Jackie. It wasn't your fault."

Talking about Jackie was not what I expected, and my mind blanked. I thought she would ask about Hellman or what I had planned, not this. It took me a few seconds to boot my brain back up, but I still didn't know exactly how to respond. After a bit more uncomfortable silence, I finally sighed deeply and crossed my arms on the table.

"You keep saying that, Mama, but I just... I can't stop thinking about it. You know? I knew the job was too good to be true. There were too many factors and too many players involved. And we were tryin' to klep something from Yorinobu, for cryin' out loud! I should have dropped that gig cold."

I was looking down at my legs. I didn't dare peek up, mostly because I couldn't bring myself to look at the mother of my dead best friend. But I guess Mama Welles wasn't going to leave it at that. She reached out and unfurled my crossed arms before taking hold of my hands into hers, firmly gripping them.

"Mija, look at me."

I didn't want to, but Mama Welles said it as a mother would gently order her children. I raised my hand and saw a face with a gentle smile, her eyes showing sadness and understanding.

"I can't say that this burden you feel will disappear because it never did for me. Jackie was the last Welles man, and he's gone now. Every day I wake up, my heart cries, knowing my hijo won't be home."

She took a deep breath and shook a little, the corners of her eyes red from being on the verge of tears.

"I know you did your best trying to keep him alive. I also knew that Jackie would take that job no matter what" She smirked, "His 'golden ticket', he called it..."

She sighed and gently shook her head, remembering how her son would brag about how their life would change soon. Her hands loosened up, and she started rubbing small circles in my palm.

"No one blames you for what happened, so you can't let it hold you back. Ok? Honor Jackie by focusing on what you have going on now instead of the mistakes in the past, Ok?"

Mama Welles was right. I'd gain nothing by constantly thinking about what could have been. I should focus on getting Arasaka back for the shit they've done to Jackie and me. I smiled at Mama Welles and acquiesced.

"Sure thing. Thanks, Mama."

Pepe must have been waiting for our heart-to-heart to finish, as after that, he brought over two glasses of whiskey. Mama Welles and I both picked up our glasses and drank to Jackie. Mama Welles then changed the topic after placing her empty drink down.

"Speaking of what you have going on now, any new special person in your life?"

My mind immediately brought up Judy, the BD editor at Lizzie's Bar. She was my type, but the loyalty and fire in her eyes were what attracted me. The problem was that if I wanted to live I had to put her friend Evelyn in danger, and I didn't want her to hate me for it. That's why I let Basil do all the talking when we met with her the other day. It was a bit of a cop out, but I think I somewhat saved my reputation by being a silent bystander. I shook my head and got her out of my mind as fast as she intruded on it. But it wasn't fast enough since Mama Welles must have noticed something.

"I know that look. Who is it? Come on, you can tell me."

I flushed in embarrassment. Mama Welles was the closest thing I had to a real mom, so I felt uncomfortable talking to her about my love life. Also, I'm a bit too old to gossip about crushes.

"Oh my god, Mama Welles. It's nothing, Ok? Just leave it alone."

She did not leave it alone.

Panam's POV

I stretched my arms above my head after exiting my tent, trying to chase away the post-sleep lethargy in my body. Once I was done, I walked through the camp and toward the edge of our home. Situated on the outskirts of our base was an oversized temporary garage, and inside was the Zetatech Surveyor we stole yesterday from KangTao.

Only the Vets and I knew about the plan to take the thing, so everyone in the camp was shocked when we returned with the flying behemoth, especially Saul. Once he heard what we did, he stormed out of the command trailer and confronted us. Yapping on and on about how we're bringing on too much risk and that this would jeopardize the deal with Biotechnica.

I don't know why Saul insists so much on working with that damn Megacorp. He says it's because we can't make a living with the usual business, but that's just because he's unwilling to try harder! I mean, me and the guys come back with a freaking cargo AV, and instead of making plans to use the damn thing, he still wants to negotiate with Biotechnica?

And not just Saul, even Basil tried to convince me this morning that I should try to see things his way. I can give him a pass since he's not a Nomad, but Saul was the best damn Aldecaldo since Santiago. Saul was the guy that always finished the job no matter how many shivs or corpos were on the other side. Ever since he took the reins of command for the clan, he's been becoming more and more of a pussy. Going so far as to beg for scraps from those soulless businesses.

While quietly fuming about Saul, I got to the temporary garage and walked past the curtain entrance. I could see sparks flying, and the sound of machinery as a small team labored away at getting the AV airworthy again. Mitch was standing in one of the corners with a small screen in his left hand, pointing something out to a nomad wearing welding goggles and a facemask.

Usually, I would be one of the people working on any big vehicle we needed to fix, but AVs were too far out of my comfort zone. So Mitch was leading the project since he had the most experience on large thruster craft. I don't know how much damage hitting the Surveyor with two EMPs did, but Mitch said it would be an easy fix after he did a diagnostic scan yesterday. I made my way to Mitch and leaned against a case, waiting for him to finish talking with the worker. I picked up a small empty oil bottle on a nearby shelf and fidgeted with it while biding my time.

While Saul didn't like us bringing the AV back, the remaining clan seemed excited at the potential prospects. Being able to fly means we could get verticality to our smuggling routes. We could fly over any part of the wall instead of having to go under at specific points. Or maybe even fly over the ocean, where border control has a much smaller presence. The options were endless, and I wanted to ensure we took advantage of this opportunity correctly.

A couple of minutes later, Mitch finished giving instructions, and the other nomad left to get back on the job. When I saw that Mitch was alone, I decided to be mischievous and threw the bottle at him. The old man showed that there was still an edge in him by batting the bottle out of the air without even taking his eyes from the tablet.

"Are you just here to distract me, or is there something more important?"

"Maybe I think distracting you is important? In all seriousness, how long will it take to get this baby back up and running? What's the plan?"

Mitch then turned around and motioned me to follow him inside the Surveyor through the side entrance. He then pointed at spots where the body panels had been removed, and some exposed wiring could be seen.

"Procuring that AA missile with the EMP warhead was a pain in the ass, but it was the right call. The Surveyor didn't suffer any significant mechanical issues, and most of the damage was limited to the batteries and power delivery systems. Nothing major. We can probably have all those issues fixed within two weeks."

Walking outside again, Mitch led me to one of the powerful engines and slapped the side of the thing.

"Each of these suckers produces roughly twenty thousand pounds of thrust. They can technically spit out twenty-five thousand pounds, but that's only under emergency conditions. I'm looking to revamp these babies so they can output twenty-five thousand under normal circumstances and up to thirty thousand when things get hairy. That'll turn this thing into a proper rocketship."

"Sounds like you already have a plan laid out. Anything I can help with?"

"Actually, as a matter of fact, there is." 

If you are reading this, it means that you are reading a novel stolen from the original author. If you want to support me, the original author, and read ahead for free, you can find me on scribblehub under SPS4.

Mitch said while showing me pictures of weird circular blades on his tablet.

"If I want that added performance, I need to overhaul the compressor section with new blades and shafts. The good news is that I know where we can find the parts from a salvaged Militech Manticore."

The good news? Oh boy, that never bodes well.

"And the bad news?"

"The bad news is that the Maelstrom salvaged it after shooting it down."

"Fuck."

"Yup."

Out of all the gangs in Night City, it just had to be the Maelstrom who had what I needed. I almost prefer working with the shivs than the fucking Maelstrom.

"*Sigh* I'll see what I can do. Send me the deets on the parts you need."

While Mitch was forwarding me the component specs, I got a text from someone else. Checking my phone showed that it was Basil, saying he was just a few minutes from the camp. Thinking about my new mainline had me grinning. He was one of the few positive things that happened to me while I was away from the clan, and responsible for so much of the good after I rejoined.

"Who's that?"

I looked up and saw that Mitch noticed me smiling.

"Basil's here to drop off Scorpion's truck and talk about some new business he has in mind. I'll see you later, Mitch."

"Before you leave, let me say one last thing. Basil's a city kid, and you're a Nomad through and through. I know you want to get serious with him, but sit down and take some time to try to figure out what the future is."

I opened my mouth to tell Mitch off and have him mind his own business, but I stopped myself and thought about what he said. I don't want to admit it, but Mitch has a point. The problem is I don't want to bring this up now only to find that Basil and I don't have a middle ground, then proceed to burn it all down. Maybe I'll do it later. For now, one step at a time.