Chapter 1

It was as I made my way over to El Coyote Cojo, that I first really noticed another of my Perks. I'd been walking along and just passed Second Amendment, the Gun Shop run by Carmen Loba that was just about halfway between my apartment and El Coyote Cojo when a car came speeding around the corner full of jacked-up Sixth Street Guys. They didn't stop for me as I was crossing the street, if anything they sped up, likely trying to see if they couldn't run over the Latino dude with the tattoo and Valentinos shirt on their way to wherever the fuck it was they were headed.

It was as they sped up that my brain kicked into high gear and the world slowed around me. I could tell they were going exactly sixty-eight-point-seven-five miles per hour and that their angle of approach would run me over in about six seconds. It would take me five seconds moving at normal speed on a perpendicular route to their angle of approach to get out of the way and under the protection radius of the anti-thief autoturret of Second Amendment.

As time sped up for me, I moved in the route my brain had just calculated, not even bothering to question it. As I did, the Sixth Street Mackinaw MTL-One Pickup Truck jumped the curb right where I had been, and the driver, a Gangoon with the top half of his head and face all chromed up narrowed his red, digital, eyes at me down to pinpricks in a cyberized glare as the Autoturret folded out of the wall of Second Amendment.

"Psh, this pissant ain't worth it, Sam." Scoffed the Gangoon in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, fucking saved by the bell. Hey, Turret-bitch! Tell your Chooms to fuck off outta Vista Del Rey or else!" Spat the Driver before the tire squealed and the truck went racing off down the street.

"Holy shit! You all right, E?" Came a voice to my right, I turned to spot Carmen exiting Second Amendment.

"I'm all right, Chica. Just a bunch of Sixth Street Gangoons who've got an ass-whupping coming." I brushed off the concern.

Carmen Loba was a fiery Latina in her early thirties with a single, cybereye and hair cut short and spiky. She wasn't affiliated with the Valentinos but was a Civilian Techie who did some work around the neighborhood installing security systems and so on. She'd opened up a Second Amendment Franchise after Buck Parkland had his heart attack last year and had to sell his Franchise Rights to someone to pay off the Corpos for his treatment. Carmen was skeptical of the Corps like anyone would be, but she took it to a whole new level. If this were my old life, I'd say she would have jumped at the chance to fuck off into the woods with an Anti-Corporate Militia Group or something, but here in Cyberpunk World, there were no woods left in California to fuck off to. I could also testify, from my Big E memories, that she was just as fiery in bed as she was in the streets. Apparently, we'd had a thing a few years back.

"Yeah, no shit. This is the second Sixth Street issue I've seen in the hour since they lifted the lockdown. Those guys are out in force, looking to start shit with anyone they think is a Valentino." Griped Carmen.

"They didn't start shit in your store?" I questioned.

"Fuck no. Everyone oughtta know better than that by now." Scoffed Carmen.

"True story, just remember the old saying. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, and three times is enemy action." I cautioned.

"Cut it out, you're too young to be spouting off old man shit like that." Smirked Carmen.

"Maybe I've been listening to my Uncle too much." I shrugged.

"Yeah? You tell Padre to cut the sermons, they're making you sound old." Chuckled Carmen.

"Seriously, though. Take care of yourself, Chica. You know you can call if you need me for something, yeah?" I queried.

"I know. I appreciate it, E. Really, I do. I'll be all right, though." Sighed Carmen.

"All right. I gotta Delta, though. Padre's expecting me. Something about keeping an eye on Jackie." I nodded.

"Yeah? When does that Gonk ever not need someone keeping an eye on him? Just be careful, E." Grinned Carmen.

And like that, I headed out once again for El Coyote Cojo. The implications of both the newly revealed power and brush with the Sixth Street Gangoons said a couple of things. First, it was likely that things were starting to heat up again with the Valentinos and Sixth Street. The Lockdown had put that whole turf war in the cooler since the Lawmen had been out in force making sure even the sub-districts were locked down. Of course, they only could do that because they had those 'Saka Ninjas helping them out by taking care of the City Center. Freed up enough manpower to set up checkpoints in the subdistricts.

Still, the whole thing was likely to blow up bigtime soon. I wouldn't be surprised if the first Gonks of the Renewed Turf War got zeroed in the next few days. It wasn't even good territory we were fighting over, seriously, I'd move outta Vista Del Rey in a heartbeat if I had the Eddies for a new place. The neighborhood was a shithole. Carmen had enough Eddies from setting up security systems in the neighborhood to buy a full-on Franchised Gun Shop for a reason, after all.

Thankfully, I made it to El Coyote Cojo with no further Sixth Street encounters. I grabbed a stool at the bar and sat down. The bearded face of Pepe Najarro, the Bartender here, whenever Mama Welles didn't feel like working the Bar, anyway, nodded at me. I nodded back.

"Big E, good to see you out and about." Greeted Pepe.

"Pepe, how's biz?" I queried.

"Picking up, in both senses of the word." Responded Pepe.

"You're talking about Sixth Street, yeah? I had a run-in with a couple of those Gonks in a truck on the way here. Tried to zero me by running me over, then tucked tail when they couldn't. Told me to tell everyone to fuck off outta Vista Del Rey." I snorted.

"Yeah, it seems like things are gonna kick off on that front real soon. Can't believe it's over a shithole like Vista Del Rey, though." Groused Pepe.

"I can. Sixth Street's a bunch of Gonks who couldn't hack it in the Army and no Corp would take for security. Those kinds of Leadheads are like the Animals, everything's about establishing dominance with them. At least on the local level, not sure what their leadership is like." I offered.

"Sounds about right. You staying a while?" Asked Pepe.

"Have to. My Uncle wants me to keep an eye on Jackie tonight. Something about a Rayfield Arondight he was hoping to klep." I answered.

"Padre's smart to send you with. With Sixth Street acting out like this, who knows what kinda Bronca he might get himself into." Admitted Pepe.

"Jackie, in over his head? No Manches!" I gasped in mock surprise.

"Heh, right. So, what can I get you?" Questioned Pepe.

"For now? Calavera Feliz." I ordered.

"Coming up." Nodded Pepe, going behind the bar and grabbing a beer.

Calavera Feliz was not bad in the least. It sorta reminded me of Modelo Negra from back in my Old Life. It was a Mexican take on a German-style Dunkel, but with somehow even more quality, being a top-shelf drink. Best of all, it was only five-point-four percent alcohol by volume, meaning I could drink it all afternoon while waiting for Jackie and still not be drunk by the time I had to head out with him. That was a vital thing if you didn't want to fuck up a job, not being drunk.

As I drank, I waited for Jackie to show up. Five hours, six bottles of Calavera Feliz, and a plate of Tacos de Suadero later, I was still waiting. Kirk Sawyer had come in fifteen minutes ago, his Fatass Huscle trailing behind him, and went to the upper level to conduct his Biz. I knew Kirk was a shitheel who was lying about his connections and never even bothered talking to the man. Why would I? My Uncle was an actual Fixer, not some wannabe like Kirk in his shitty windbreaker. Regardless, I'd just ordered a NiCola to begin slow-playing the beers. A few moments later, in strolled Jackie.

The man was built like a brick shithouse, machete on his back, pistol at his hip, armorweave-reinforced leather jacket over a Valentinos shirt, hair cut into a ridiculous topknot like he was trying to out-samurai all of the 'Saka Ninjas. You'd think a guy who liked to fight up close and personal would have Gorilla Arms chipped in or some sort of subdermal armor, but no. Jackie's only Cyberware was his Cyberdeck.

"Oi, Jaquito! Come have a chat." I called out.

"Hey, Big E, not right now yeah? Got some Biz to sort out with Kirk upstairs." Refused Jackie.

"This Biz have anything to do with a Rayfield Arondight you were looking to Klep?" I queried.

"How'd you know about that?" Asked Jackie.

"My Uncle says I'm supposed to go with. Kirk doesn't have the best Rep, Jackie. I'm supposed to make sure he isn't trying to haze you." I insisted.

"Aw, come on, E! I got it all worked out and everything! Got some Under-the-Counter Magic from Kabuki to help me klep it with no alarms, Kirk's Guy is gonna black out the Cameras, and it's just some 'Saka Corprat who's probably got insurance! I've got all the angles figured, so tell Padre No Gracias, I got it covered." Tried Jackie.

"Can't do that, Jackie. Orders from Mi Tio." I shrugged.

"Chinga tu madre! Gimme a break here!" Groused Jackie.

"No can do, Choom." I responded.

"At least tell me that Padre's paying you and I don't have to share my payout? Kirk's already taking a giant cut of the bonanza." Sighed Jackie.

"See, that's one of the things that Padre's worried about. Let me see this Under-the-Counter Kabuki Magic." I intoned.

"Fine, here." Acquiesced Jackie, handing over the Jury-Rigged Rayfield Service Key.

I already knew the thing wouldn't work properly thanks to my knowledge of how the Game played out, but I went ahead and interfaced with it using my Mechanicus Implants anyway and right away I saw the flaws in the coding loud and clear. This would transfer control of the car, but the anti-trace ICE wasn't up to snuff. I could reconfigure it, but it'd take me a bit of time to do that, maybe around an hour. I jacked out and looked over at Jackie.

"Yeah, I dunno where Kirk got this, but the Anti-Trace ICE on this is junk. Any Corpo worth their salt will blow through it in no time and then you'll be up to your asshole in 'Saka Ninjas before you can blink. Gimme an hour and I can maybe get it up to snuff." I relayed.

"What? That can't be right, Kirk's a Cartel Guy, isn't he? He wouldn't give me bad shit." Frowned Jackie.

"Jackie, if Kirk's a Cartel Guy, why is Mi Tio telling me to keep an eye on you in case he hazes you?" I pointed out.

"That Hijo di Puta! I don't believe it!" Snapped Jackie.

"Calm down. I'll talk to Mi Tio about this later tonight. He'll take care of Kirk. For now, give me an hour to get this working, and we'll do the job." I insisted.

"Why? You said it yourself, Kirk's trying to Haze us. Why are we gonna do this for him?" Demanded Jackie.

"We're not doing this for Kirk. We'll bring it to Moto Cielo. Juan will take it off our hands and we'll get a better price. He owes Mi Tio after how he helped Juan get control of the Chop Shop there." I explained.

"Oh! Preem!" Grinned Jackie.

"Exactly. Now, Callate y déjame trabajar." I insisted.

As I got to work, Jackie kept quiet via the simple expedient of stuffing his face with Tostadas de Frijoles. I frowned but refrained from commenting. Jackie was a big boy, he could handle a little gas on the job if it came down to it. Unfortunately, managing to beef up the Anti-Trace ICE was slow work, largely because I didn't have a specific perk based on programming and had to patch around having one using my Omni-Disciplinary capabilities, the standard software of my Mechanicus Implants, and my apparently savant-like skill with mathematics. If I'd had a specific perk for it, I could have been done with this in twenty minutes or so. It instead took me just over three times that. An hour and five minutes later, I finally managed to get the ICE to where I needed it to be to hold off Corpo Trace and jacked out.

"All right, now we can go." I spoke up.

"Un Segundo." Insisted Jackie.

 Then he rolled up the last Tostada sideways like a burrito and scarfed it down like a total Gonk. Once that was done, he grabbed his bottle of Calavera Feliz and chugged the rest of it down like a digestive aid. Putting down the beer and wiping his mouth, he grinned over at me.

"You done?" I questioned.

"Yeah. Let's Delta." Nodded Jackie.

"You leaving?" Queried Pepe from behind the bar.

"Yeah. Why?" I asked.

"Padre called. He's sending a driver to pick you up. Some Nomad Chica named Valerie. She's working odd jobs for him as a Courier. She'll be out front in five minutes." Answered Pepe.

"Preem. We'll wait outside." I responded.

I had a feeling that this was gonna be a bigger night than I'd thought. We might not meet Street Kid V, but if Valerie was who I thought she was, then we'd be meeting Nomad V. That was strange to me, since as far as I knew, Nomad was the least popular Lifepath for V, at least from what I remembered of looking around online back in my Old Life. But then, this wasn't a game anymore, was it? Why shouldn't V be a Nomad here?

"Hey! Padre's sending a car, I guess I'm moving up in the world, eh?" Questioned Jackie, grinning.

"Come on, Jackie. We don't want to keep our ride waiting, do we?" I sighed at Jackie's antics.

"After you, E." Chuckled Jackie.

"Buena Suerte!" Called out Pepe from behind the bar.

I tossed him a jaunty wave as I exited El Coyote Cojo, Jackie trailing behind me. As we waited out front, I reached into my jacket and checked the inside pocket. Sure enough, there was the brass, bullet-shaped, Cigar Holder with the single Cigar inside it, along with the engraved brass lighter. They'd been custom jobs paid for by Padre after my first job for him.

"What's that?" Queried Jackie.

"Victory Cigar." I answered.

"Don't I get one?" Asked Jackie.

"If this Car we're about to klep is worth as much as you seem to think it is, you can buy your own from your end." I scoffed.

"Wait, you want a cut now? I thought you said Padre was paying you?" Frowned Jackie.

"That was before I had to do a bunch of work on your Gonk's Hacking Device. Now, we're splitting the take, sixty-forty. There should be about twenty-six-thousand-three-hundred-fifty eddies in it for you." I insisted.

"How do you figure that? The Blue Book on this car is one-fifty-five grand!" Demanded Jackie.

"Yeah, if we were selling it legit, maybe. I look like a dealership to you? Hot cars sell to chop shops for half the Value of the Blue Book already, then you can take fifteen percent off that for the Padre's Cut, and you get the final number at sixty-five-thousand-eight-hundred-seventy-five eddies, which you're splitting with me sixty-forty because you'd have gotten caught without my expertise." I pointed out.

Jackie looked like he wanted to argue, but thankfully, our ride arrived before he could. She was a long-haired, vaguely Native American-looking Woman in a Camo Tanktop and black denim jacket with various patches that I could see had a bit of aramid weaved into it. She pulled up to the curb driving a weathered pickup trick of blue and yellow paint, scourged by the dust that frequently kicked up into a storm out in the badlands. A Sternmeyer SMG-Twenty-One sat lying on the passenger-side seat along with two clips' worth of reloads.

"Hey, you two Gonks Jaquito Welles and Ernesto Manfredi?" Questioned the Woman.

"Depends on whose asking?" I queried.

"I'm Valerie, you two can call me V, though. Padre sent me if you're the two I'm looking for?" Asked V.

"We are. I'm Big E, though I also accept E." I nodded.

"And it's just Jackie. Only my Abuelito, Padre, and this Gonk call me Jaquito." Added Jackie.

"Preem. I guess I'm your ride, then. Hop in the bed and let's Delta." Nodded V.

And just like that, Jackie and I were on our way to the future with V. Hopefully, this time wouldn't include Jackie dying via a bullet to the gut during the Arisaka Relic Heist. If I could prevent that from happening, I would. I wasn't sure what to make of this V yet, but I was pretty sure I'd be seeing a lot more of her after tonight. As we drove off into the Night City evening, I couldn't help but grin.

Either way, I'd rack up a bunch of points in the Game this way. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, here's the first proper chapter. In it, we meet both Jackie and V and start meddling with the Rayfield Arondight Heist that Streetkid V met Jackie on. Of course, this V is a Nomad who got into Night City a different way than normal, but when you introduce Self Inserts into things and write them a backstory into reality, that's bound to cause butterflies in the timeline.

The Spanish and Night City Slang in this chapter might be a little gratuitous. I'll try to ease up in the future, but the Valentinos do canonically pepper a bunch of Spanish Phrases into their dialogue on a regular basis, and the Night City Slang stuff can't be excised entirely without making it not Cyberpunk. Let me know if it's too much and I can ease up in the future, but I won't be stopping with either entirely.

Also, I'll need another Perk Update, because this chapter was over three thousand words at Three-thousand-two-hundred-twenty-four words. Expect that and more images inbound soon.

At any rate, the next chapter will involve the heist, where we'll see that even with the improved Rayfield Key, things aren't going to go a hundred percent to plan. After all, Sixth Street keeps trying to test the Valentinos and the turf war over Vista Del Rey is about to go hot again. Who knows what sorts of complications that sort of thing can cause?

Stay tuned. . .