A Nomad-modified vehicle passed through the northern Night City border checkpoint.
"This good enough for you, kid?" the driver asked.
The white-haired girl nodded and hopped out. "Yes, right here is fine, thanks. How much do I owe you?"
McCoy, behind the wheel, waved her off. "Don't worry about it. We were heading into the city anyway. Saw you on the road and gave you a lift—no big deal. Take care of yourself, kid. Night City isn't what you think it is—it's a place that chews you up and spits you out."
He assumed this white-haired girl had come to Night City in pursuit of the city Dream. Little did he know her motives were far different. Compared to the place she had fled, Night City might actually be safer…at least, until Arasaka came knocking.
---
They returned to the El Coyote Bar.
Once they'd driven the SUV into the garage, the three of them headed into the bar for a bite to eat.
Sitting in a corner on the second floor, they ate and chatted. Sipping her drink through a straw, V proposed an idea.
"Leo, here's a suggestion: you don't actually need to run your own gun shop. You could just team up with Padre. You're getting materials and parts through him anyway, so why not go all the way? Have him handle sales for you."
"That way," she added, "you'd fork over a bit more of your profit to Padre, but you'd avoid a ton of hassle. What do you think?"
Jackie nodded in agreement. "Solid plan. Padre's a pretty stand-up fixer. In all the years I've known him, he's never once screwed anyone over—long as they don't backstab him first."
Leo looked at them. "So can you talk to him for me?"
"Sure." Jackie reached for his phone, eyes lighting up. A short while later, he hung up and turned back, looking pleased.
"Padre's on board, but he's got a proposal of his own," he said.
Leo glanced up. "Shoot."
"He wants to sell your tech weapons at market price, then subtract the cost of materials and parts. He'll split the remaining profit, thirty–seventy."
Leo hadn't even replied before V frowned. "Only thirty percent? That's kinda stingy for tech weapons…"
Tech weapons sold for far higher prices than standard kinetic guns. Earning only thirty percent? Didn't add up with her image of Padre, who normally wasn't so tightfisted.
Jackie chuckled. "No, you got it backward. Padre keeps thirty; Leo gets seventy. Says he's cutting him a deal—to make friends."
"Oh…that's more like the Padre I know." V grinned. "So, how many tech weapons can you build in a day, Leo?"
Leo paused, doing the math. Tech weapons were more complex than kinetic firearms, so they took longer to produce. Skilled gunsmiths who could handle advanced tech designs were extremely rare in Night City—otherwise, every gang would ditch regular guns and upgrade straight to tech.
Smart weapons were even another tier beyond that, made by only the very top manufacturers.
Anyway, tech weapons were tricky, so Leo estimated he could comfortably devote a couple of hours each day to production. That would yield around five guns daily.
"Five a day?" Jackie's eyes nearly bugged out. "I've seen tech weapons go for at least twenty-thousand eddies apiece at gun shops. You could make five a day—holy shit…"
No wonder people said comparisons would kill you. Jackie and V had risked their necks doing merc jobs for a few thousand bucks—split three ways. Meanwhile, Leo was making a tidy sum from a cozy workshop.
As soon as Leo and Jackie finalized the arrangement, V—who had just come back from the restroom—settled into her seat and turned to Leo.
"By the way, I've noticed you don't even have a neural slot. You don't have any implants or augments at all?"
Leo unconsciously touched the back of his head. The Bakker's ripperdoc had patched up his old gunshot wound so thoroughly there wasn't even a scar. Shaking his head, he said, "Nah, I don't like the idea."
V and Jackie exchanged glances.
"But without even the most basic neural slot, you'll run into a lot of trouble around here," V pointed out.
By 2077, cyberware was as common as smartphones had been a near century earlier. Even the poorest scrounged up enough to at least get a bare-bones first-gen implant. Sure, they were up to fourth-gen tech now, and first-gen was badly outdated, but it was still better than nothing.
A total "pure flesh" human being like Leo was a rare sight—he would fit right in with the monks preaching how removing any flesh was the path to spiritual ruin. The monks blamed cyber-psychosis on the withering of the human soul, robbed of nourishment by too many machine parts.
"How about I just buy a phone?" Leo suggested, shrugging lightly.
"A phone?" V gave him a look. "If you really don't want an implant, you might as well have me help you get AR glasses. It's basically a lightweight mobile phone that hangs on your face. You can make calls, text—basic stuff. You can also do money transfers, scanning, the works."
Jackie nodded. "It's true—if you have AR goggles, you can get by without implants in day-to-day life, at least. But you know those things cost an arm and a leg, right? You can buy a low-end military-grade cyberlimb for the same amount."
AR glasses were basically a high-end toy for the wealthy. They mirrored all the essential functions of a neural slot—digital comms, heads-up displays, scanning apps—just without physically augmenting the body. Naturally, they weren't cheap.
But as a side effect, that also meant it was exclusive to those with money. The typical poor or working class wouldn't dream of dropping a fortune on AR eyewear when a secondhand or first-gen implant could do the same for a fraction of the cost.
…
For the next several days, none of them took on new merc jobs. Jackie was busy running around on Leo's behalf, V handled logistics—always showing up with a hearty meal or cold beer at just the right time—and Leo stayed in the garage, cranking out tech weapons with the tools, parts, and materials Padre's crew delivered.
True to his reputation, Padre proved a solid fixer. He promised to settle Leo's earnings daily—no delays. He even learned from Jackie that Leo needed AR glasses, so he sent those along, too.
---
The AR goggles Padre's people delivered were a sleek, silver-white design—a cutting-edge, futuristic vibe oozing from every inch. The moment Leo got them, he couldn't wait to try them on.
"Beep…beep…!"
A ringing noise, audible only to him, chimed through his ears. In his field of vision, a small translucent window popped up, displaying an incoming call from **Jackie Welles**.
Leo answered, and Jackie's voice came in crisp and clear: "Hey, Leo! So how's Padre's fancy gadget working out?"
Leo adjusted the frames on his nose—it felt practically weightless. "Not bad. Feels great, actually."