"Cannon? What kind of name is that? Why not just call yourself Nation-Breaker… Cannon, are you the newly appointed head of the Clemente family?"
"How did you know? You have a spy placed on my side?"
"No. But think about it—if you weren't the new head replacing Clemente, there'd be no reason to call me."
"Has anyone told you you're smarter than you look, Mr. Jackie?"
"Mr. Cannon, I think we should stop talking in circles. I'm not the kind of guy who enjoys small talk, especially with strangers. Let's get to the point—what do you want from me?"
Cannon shifted his posture. "Mr. Jackie, I want to stop the conflict between the Clemente family and your group. We're willing to pay a price for peace. You can propose the terms of compensation—so long as it's not outrageous, we're prepared to accept."
Jackie didn't answer immediately. Instead, he turned to look at Leo, who was sitting beside him. Leo gave a small smile. He'd heard the entire conversation between Jackie and Cannon. Now that Cannon was taking the initiative to call and seek peace, it was clear—the Clemente family had been beaten down hard and were now trying to beg for mercy.
Gang wars hadn't erupted in Night City for years. But now, with the Clemente family at war on multiple fronts, their losses had become catastrophic. In just two weeks, the damage they suffered exceeded the total of the past several years. They couldn't hold on any longer, and now they wanted a ceasefire.
Leo scribbled a few words on a piece of paper and showed them to Jackie. Jackie nodded.
"You want a ceasefire? Fine. Then send me Nicola's head first."
Since the conflict began, Nicola had vanished without a trace. But it wasn't hard to guess—he probably hadn't escaped Night City and was likely hiding within Clemente territory. As for this traitor, Jackie hated him to the bone, and Padre's men despised him just as much.
Jackie had expected Cannon to refuse or deflect the demand. But Cannon answered without hesitation. "You want Nicola's head? Fine. Give me a few minutes."
When the call abruptly disconnected, Jackie blinked and asked, "Leo, he's not seriously going to…"
Leo didn't answer him. Instead, he called Rogue. "Rogue, I need a favor. I want to hire Emmerick and Crispin, along with your best mercs. Hit the Clemente family compound and kill their new leader, Cannon. I'll send you his photo in a moment."
Leo wasn't worried that Rogue's people couldn't pull it off. Emmerick and Crispin were her top enforcers—far beyond the league of ordinary street gunners. And the Clemente side was currently in utter chaos.
A few minutes later, Cannon called again.
"You wanted Nicola's head, right? See for yourself. He's dead. Happy now? Or do you really want me to cut it off and gift wrap it for you?"
The holographic feed tilted downward, revealing Nicola's corpse lying on the ground, eyes wide open in death. A bullet hole marked the center of his forehead, and blood had soaked the floor around him.
Jackie already knew Leo had no intention of negotiating with the Clemente family. But to buy more time, he spoke slowly: "I see your sincerity—but this isn't enough."
"I get it. Name your price. How much? Ten million? Twenty million? Or… will fifty million be enough?"
Jackie shook his head. "Not enough."
Cannon's face turned dark. "Still not enough? I suggest you don't get greedy—you might bite off more than your gut can handle."
Fifty million eurodollars—that was the most compensation Cannon could offer after tallying up the Clemente family's current assets. It wasn't that he didn't want to settle the matter with a few million; even an idiot could see that a few million wouldn't satisfy Jackie. So in his mind, fifty million was the ceiling. More than that, the family couldn't afford—and neither could he.
Now, seeing Jackie still refuse, Cannon's face showed clear displeasure. Did they really think the Clemente family was a beaten dog anyone could kick?
"You… you're not planning to negotiate? You want to keep fighting?"
"Why not?" Leo cut in before Jackie could speak. "Your Clemente family is surrounded on all sides. Coming to the table proves you're out of options. What makes you think you're in any position to bargain? Ever since you tried to assassinate Padre, we've had nothing to talk about."
Everyone knew the peace terms the Sixth Street Gang offered were only temporary. The moment the Clemente family made their move on Padre, they sealed their own fate. Because they'd broken one of Night City's oldest and most ironclad rules.
Some people might find it laughable—a bunch of murderous, lawless scumbags talking about "rules"? But yes—even the underworld has its code. Chief among them: no matter how brutal the turf war, the leadership must never be touched.
To outsiders, that might sound absurd. But shift your perspective—from the gang to the men at the top—and it makes perfect sense.
Think about it. Climbing to the top of a gang isn't about honor—it's about money, women, power, status… and living long enough to enjoy it. Every boss values their life. You'll never see a kingpin charging into a gunfight. That's for the street-level grunts.
No matter how advanced your chrome is, a single stray round can end you. That's why, years ago, Night City's gangs made an unspoken pact: no hits on high-ranking members. You kill a boss today, someone kills yours tomorrow. It never ends.
But the Clemente family broke that pact. They went after Padre. Even if he survived, his organization would've plunged into chaos. It was a calculated move. But they didn't calculate Leo—who used an even more ruthless method to counter them.
And now they wanted peace? Where was this mercy before?
If the Clemente family had followed the rules, maybe there'd be something to negotiate. But they didn't. They broke the code first—now there was nothing left to discuss.
Cannon glared at Leo. "Who the hell are you?"
"You don't need to know who I am. You should be worrying about yourselves."
Cannon's expression shifted. "Fine, fine. You really want to fight? You think the Clemente family is some pushover everyone can kick around? Don't forget—we can call for backup from the other Sixth Street families. And behind us, we've got Militech."
Leo shook his head. The Clemente family really was backed into a corner—Cannon wouldn't be throwing Militech's name around otherwise.
"Did you get something mixed up?"
"What?"
Leo called Cannon's bluff without mercy. "You're Militech's black gloves. Militech isn't your protector state. Now that the whole city is against you, do you really think Militech will stick its neck out for you?"
"Militech backed you because they didn't want to get their hands dirty. You've been wearing the tiger's skin for so long, you actually believe you're the tiger?"
"And those other Sixth Street families—do you really think they'll wade into this mess for you?"
Just like the Valentinos, the Sixth Street Gang wasn't a single unit. It was a federation of families—families with rivalries, grudges, and conflicting interests. For minor scuffles, maybe they'd back each other. But this? This was an all-out gang war—so serious even City Hall was getting involved. The other families would stay on the sidelines. Don't talk to them about unity or long-term strategy. The moment you ask for help, they'll just think you're looking for a free ride.
That kind of cheap rhetoric might work on street thugs—not on veteran bosses.
Now that his bluff had been seen through, Cannon's face turned ashen.