They inserted the chip into Leo's laptop, and the contents popped up almost immediately.
It showed that Kirk had indeed taken a job from the Maelstrom gang. Maelstrom's main source of income came from smuggling illegal drugs and "Glitter." They transported Glitter to the eastern Badlands and sold it to a group of "Raffens." In turn, they bought corporate-sourced illegal narcotics from those same Raffens.
Raffens were not a single, specific gang. The term referred to bandits, criminals, and exiles expelled from Nomad families for breaking their rules—a motley assortment of outcasts.
Kirk had hired a driver who specialized in running goods for Maelstrom. All Leo and the others needed to do was find a way to make Kirk's operation go sideways.
Leo already had a plan for that. As long as the plan succeeded, Kirk would be in serious trouble. The only question was which route the driver would take from Watson to the eastern Badlands. There were multiple roads.
They ate Mexican noodle soup and tortilla chips prepared by Mrs. Welles, discussing the matter until late at night. Finally, Leo spotted a blind spot in their reasoning.
They could lie in wait on a road the driver had to pass through. Since the goal was to deliver Glitter to the eastern Badlands, they would certainly go through Santo Domingo. From Watson to Santo Domingo and then on to the eastern border checkpoint, there was only one main highway. If they set up an ambush there, they'd catch their target.
With the plan set, the three finally called it a night and slept until now.
Although Pepe wasn't family or a close friend to Leo, he was a friend of Jackie's. If Leo could help look out for him, he would. After all, anyone could fall on hard times. Helping others meant maybe someone would help you when you were at your lowest. Leo believed that if he and Jackie ever landed in trouble, Pepe would step in for them, too.
…
Inside the bar, Pepe was busy cleaning under Mrs. Welles's direction. Once they opened for business, he would have to hide in the garage again. Kirk had said he wouldn't come after Pepe—at least for now—but Jackie and V had no intention of doing Kirk's bidding. To be on the safe side, Pepe would keep laying low in the garage until things settled.
Leo went to find Pepe, pulled him aside, and discreetly handed him a few hundred eurodollars.
"Leo, I appreciate it, but I can't take this. Besides, it's nowhere near enough to cover the interest."
"You're overthinking it. This isn't for paying off debt—I need you to get me some Glitter."
Pepe drew in a sharp breath, his face going pale. His eyes changed as he looked at Leo.
"Leo, what do you want that stuff for? I'm warning you, you touch it and your life's done."
Leo rolled his eyes. He had grown up learning that gambling, drugs—any of that—was never to be touched. He came from a country with some of the strictest and most heavily anti-drug education in the world.
"Of course I know that. I'm not using it myself. Don't ask; just get it for me," he said, patting Pepe on the shoulder. "Don't worry, it's only for a few days. Once that's over, Kirk won't be bothering you again."
…
Over the next few days, regulars at the El Coyote noticed a new bartender, a younger man replacing the usual muscular one. Most of them didn't mind, as long as they could still get their drinks.
A few mornings later, Pepe handed Leo a brand-new shoe box containing exactly what Leo had asked for. Leo told Pepe to wait in the garage for good news, then grabbed V and Jackie and headed to Santo Domingo.
…
Santo Domingo was one of Night City's oldest districts. It bordered Westbrook to the north, Heywood and Pacifica to the west, and the wind-swept Badlands to the east.
Towering mega-buildings there were packed with tens of thousands of cramped apartments. The dream of building suburban utopias out of single-family homes was common throughout Night City, but perhaps nowhere was it more obvious than in Santo Domingo.
Skyscrapers crowded alongside low houses, factories pressed up against power plants—what should have been a neighborhood of idyllic charm was anything but. Any notion of a functional city plan, with distinct zones for different services, had long since collapsed.
Santo Domingo felt like your deadbeat Uncle's backyard, filled with rusty old pickups and moldy lawn ornaments. It changed from one day to the next. Because land prices there were so cheap, outlandish development projects sprang up all the time—only to be quickly abandoned, making room for the next attempt.
Santo Domingo consisted of two main areas: Arroyo and Rancho Coronado.
In Arroyo, the heart of this industrial zone, abandoned factories and shuttered plants dotted the landscape, breeding low-level crime and misery.
Meanwhile, Rancho Coronado's suburbs, with bright white fences and lawns of neat green grass, offered another kind of suffocating beauty. Tree-lined streets meandered like streams across the lawns, funneling suburban residents into the factories and foundries in Arroyo.
Leo, Jackie, and V drove into Arroyo's main thoroughfare. They spent some time surveying the area and finally settled on a spot.
"How about there?" Leo asked, pointing to a half-finished building—one of many abandoned projects in Santo Domingo. It offered a great vantage point but looked ordinary enough not to attract attention. Even if something went wrong, they could quickly slip out the back.
"You two go ahead. I'll be right there," Leo said.
He grabbed a backpack from the car and walked out to the main road. From the bag, he took the Glitter that Pepe had bought, then pulled out a pair of shoes. He stuffed the Glitter inside one shoe, tied the shoelaces of both shoes together, and flung them onto a power line overhead.
He got lucky—it worked on the first try. With that done, he joined V and Jackie at the abandoned site.
Inside, stagnant water covered the floor in dark, reeking puddles, and garbage lay everywhere. Yet even in such miserable conditions, people on the extreme fringes of society had made a home, licking their wounds and starving day by day.
Leo reached the roof, where V and Jackie were already waiting. As soon as Jackie spotted him, he asked, "What did you toss up there earlier?"
On the way in, Jackie had seen Leo pull something from the backpack but couldn't make out what it was.
"Glitter," Leo replied.
Jackie blinked. "You're sure it wasn't a bomb?"
He couldn't figure out what good that stuff would do. Leo just smiled, offering no further explanation.
The three of them hunkered down. After a while, a truck appeared on the road below, coming from the direction of Westbrook. The logo of "All Foods" was painted on its side.
All of them tensed.
"That's the one. What now?" Jackie asked.
Leo held him back. "Don't move. Leave it to me."
He set up an Ice Storm sniper rifle, aimed at the truck, and followed its movement through the scope, finger resting on the trigger—but he didn't fire. The truck rumbled east toward the border checkpoint, and Leo just stayed still, as if asleep.
Finally, Jackie couldn't stand it and whispered, "Leo?"
V watched him anxiously too, but Leo ignored them both, his entire focus pinned on the truck through the scope. Only when it passed right beneath the dangling shoes did he pull the trigger.