"Jackie, come have a drink with us!"
Jackie Welles had barely stepped into El Coyote Cojo before the Valentino gang member—who'd been pestering Mama Welles for another drink—stood up and waved him over, eager to share a round.
Before Jackie could respond, Mama Welles, carrying a tray, cut in first.
"Jackie, perfect timing. Come help me out and bring these over to those two customers over there."
"Got it, mamá."
Having just come home only to get put to work, Jackie gave his friend an apologetic look, then smoothly took the tray from his mother and walked over to Karl and Oliver. He set the plates down in front of them and, without hesitation, took a seat right next to them.
"So, how should I call you, mano?"
Jackie Welles. The real deal, sitting right in front of them.
But for Karl, who had already met Vik, it wasn't as shocking as it might've been otherwise.
"Karl," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "You can call me KK."
This sweet tea... tastes just like iced tea.
"Oliver."Oliver raised his cold beer slightly toward Jackie in greeting. "I heard your name earlier—Jackie, right? I don't mind making a new friend over drinks."
"Perfect."
Jackie had originally come over just to get a read on the unfamiliar mercs hanging around his mom's bar, making sure they weren't trouble. But after a few seconds of talking, he could tell they weren't the dangerous type. His wariness faded, and he accepted Oliver's invitation without a second thought.
Getting up, Jackie walked over to the bar, dodging his mother's nagging as he grabbed a bottle of the same beer Oliver had. On a whim, he also grabbed a plate of sliced jamón ibérico—origin unknown, but that's just how Night City was.
On his way back, he called over to his Valentino friend, "I might have some biz later, so I won't be drinking with you guys today. Gonna chill with these new friends instead."
"Next time, then!"
"Of course!"
Flashing a grin, Jackie dropped the plate of jamón onto the table, plopped back into his seat, and downed a long gulp of beer.
Once he was done, he turned his attention back to Karl and Oliver.
"Help yourselves to some ham. By the looks of it, you two are mercs?"
"We just formed a team yesterday. Haven't even taken a job yet," Karl replied while sipping his iced tea. He popped a fry into his mouth, savoring its crispy, golden texture. Surprisingly good.
"So, you guys are fresh out of the gate?"
Jackie's brows raised in mild surprise. "From how you're geared up, you don't seem like complete rookies. Someone guiding you?"
Newbie mercs often don't get the importance of gear. Even here, in El Coyote Cojo, a bar full of jobless mercs, most of them had probably learned the hard way that a bulletproof vest or subdermal plating wasn't optional.
"We did get some help from a ripperdoc named Viktor. He's a real good guy," Oliver said casually, not realizing he was already giving away useful info.
Karl caught on right away—Jackie wasn't just a friendly face. Underneath the easygoing act, the guy was sharp. A couple lines in and Oliver had already spilled something important.
But it wasn't critical, so Karl just grabbed a few more fries.
The bar's fries were great—crispy, well-fried—but El Coyote Cojo didn't serve salt, ketchup, or even mayo.
"Viktor?"
Jackie perked up. "The one in Watson?"
"Yeah, you know him?"
"Of course, mano! We go way back."
Jackie's grin widened, his last bit of hesitation gone. If Vik had helped these guys, they were solid. No more questions needed.
With Karl joining in, the conversation naturally shifted toward Vik and his work. Then Jackie shared a bit about himself.
"I'm kinda in the same boat as you guys. Just started working as a merc not long ago. I've taken a few gigs, nothing major. I do know a fixer, but I don't wanna ride on that connection yet. Gotta earn my keep, prove I can hustle on my own."
"Man, Jackie, you got ambition. Not like me—always leaning on my old man and sister. If Karl hadn't been around, I wouldn't even know where to start," Oliver said.
He glanced at Karl's plate—and noticed it was almost empty.
Jackie saw it too. He smiled proudly.
"So, Karl, how're the fries? My mamá makes 'em. Been eating those since I was a kid—never got tired of 'em. Not even with tortilla chips on the side."
"They're solid. But I think a bit of ketchup would make them even better."
"¡Exactamente! I keep telling her that, but she won't budge. She likes 'em plain."
Jackie looked like he was about to drag Karl over to convince Mama Welles, but before he could—
The bar's entrance swung open.
Newcomers.
"Corporate suits," Oliver muttered, lowering his voice.
Sure enough, a woman in a pristine business suit stepped in. She wore makeup, was almost attractive—but her expression was so damn smug it ruined everything.
"Keep it down, mano, or the corpo mutt might bite," Jackie whispered with a smirk.
No one in Night City really liked corpos. They strutted around like they owned everything and still kissed the boots of those above them.
"She's looking our way," Karl said flatly.
Jackie and Oliver immediately looked up.
The sharp click of high heels echoed across the floor as the corpo woman—face unreadable—marched straight toward them.
The hell? Did she hear us? What kind of cyberware's she packing...?