Rooms on both sides of the hallway were occupied by members of the 6th Street gang—dressed in military uniforms and wearing cowboy hats—casually wiping down their guns. The intent to show off muscle and flaunt firepower was more than obvious. Their trading partner waited deeper inside, in the room at the very end of the corridor.
Inside stood several armed 6th Street members. The only one seated was a man wearing gold-rimmed glasses with slicked-back hair, neat and precise. He looked up at Leo and Lucy with a glance and said coolly, "You're early."
"The guy at your door already told us," Leo raised his thumb and pointed behind him. "Now, where's my stuff?"
The slick-haired man gave a nod to someone nearby. Soon after, a member of 6th Street entered, carrying a case. He placed it on the table and opened it. Inside was a tightly sealed package of glitter. The color was exceptionally pure, indicating high quality, rare even within the city.
Tiger Claw once had its own production labs, operated by the Jotaro group. But after Leo and his crew blew those labs to pieces, Tiger Claw hadn't been able to produce decent glitter again. It wasn't for lack of space or materials, but because those "Breaking Bad" types from the Jotaro group were rare talents. Once they died, Tiger Claw couldn't replace them quickly.
However, Tiger Claw could still churn out low-end product, but when it came to high-grade shipments meant for corporate clients or special purposes, they had no choice but to buy from the Clemente family of 6th Street. All of this intel had been bought by Leo from Rogue. Tiger Claw's secrecy simply couldn't compare with a corpo's. With enough eddies, Rogue's information was always reliable.
The slick-haired man smiled. "Same amount as last time. Pay up, and the product's yours."
Leo nodded, appearing ready to pay. But at that moment, time suddenly slowed. Everyone froze in place as though someone had hit a pause button. The only one who could still move was Leo.
He calmly walked over to one of the 6th Street members, drew a pistol from the man's waist, and aimed it around the room. Bang, bang, bang—shots rang out.
Then he reached again into the same guy's belt and pulled out several frag grenades, lobbing them into the hallway outside. A few seconds later, time resumed its normal flow.
Inside the room, everyone except Leo and Lucy collapsed, heads shot through, blood spraying violently with looks of utter shock frozen on their faces. The room wasn't soundproof. The gunfire had echoed into the corridor, and the ever-suspicious 6th Street guards came rushing out—only to run headfirst into the incoming grenades.
Boom!
Screams mixed with the thunder of the explosions, shrapnel tearing through flesh. It was a brutal, symphonic mess.
Once the detonations ended, Leo grabbed two kinetic assault rifles from inside the room and stormed into the hallway, unloading round after round. When the magazines were finally empty, not a single enemy was left standing—only bodies and fresh blood soaked across the floor.
Passing through the corridor, Leo and Lucy reached the front foyer. The 6th Street members they'd seen here earlier had vanished.
"Stay inside and don't move," Leo told Lucy, then activated Talent: Time Zero.
Time slowed again. Without hesitation, Leo kicked the main door open. As expected, more 6th Street gangers were waiting outside in ambush, hiding in the alley.
Leo drew his katana and strode forward. When time resumed, heads rolled—every last one of them was dead before they realized what happened.
Ten minutes later, the screeching of tires pierced the air. Several 6th Street cars skidded to a stop, ignoring every traffic law. A dozen armed gangsters leapt out, storming the scene with rifles and SMGs at the ready—only to arrive and find nothing but corpses and blood left behind.
...
After leaving the Clemente family's secret shop, Leo and Lucy drove to a remote part of Santo Domingo. In front of a rusted tin shack stood a Black man, puffing on a cigarette between long pauses. When he saw the muscle car approaching—clearly painted in Tiger Claw style—he dropped the cigarette, stepped on it, and came forward.
"Hey boss, we meet again."
Leo got out and exchanged a few words with Crispin before cutting to the chase. "The car ready?"
"Of course." Crispin walked to the tin shack and knocked on it, causing the metal walls to rattle. He pulled out a homemade remote, hit a button, and the dented, rust-covered roll-up door began to rise with a mechanical whir.
Inside, the shack was barely large enough to hold one vehicle, and parked there was a Thorton Mackinaw MTL1, a rugged all-purpose vehicle. Tough but not clumsy, affordable yet durable, it could handle both the dense traffic of Night City and the harsh sands surrounding it. The engine wasn't built for speed, but then again, nobody bought pickups to race.
The pickup's body bore a bold, unmistakable 6th Street emblem. Crispin pulled two travel bags from the truck bed and handed them to Leo. Leo and Lucy stepped into the shack and shut the roll-up door behind them.
Crispin put on his headphones, plugged them into a dusty MP3 player—something obsolete for decades. Most people nowadays wouldn't even recognize the device. Crispin had discovered it by chance, watching an old movie from long ago, and later tracked one down from a cranky vendor in Cherry Blossom Market on Japantown.
Truth be told, the MP3's sound quality couldn't compare to neural implants—after so many years of advancement, implant tech was on a different level entirely. But still... Crispin preferred his MP3. Something about it helped him focus, let him really sink into the music.
As the track ended, the shack's roll-up door opened again. Leo and Lucy stepped out, now dressed nothing like before. The Tiger Claw outfits were gone—replaced by 6th Street-style attire.
Leo patted the side of the pickup. The solid thump rang out clearly. "We'll take this one. The car we brought, you deal with it."
"No worries, leave it to me." Crispin thumped his chest with confidence. Leo trusted the guy. They hadn't worked together many times, but Crispin had never let him down.
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