Chapter 12

A brawny man in a leather jacket, wearing a large gold bracelet and sporting a man-bun, was leaning against a tattered old sofa.

In his hand, he was also gripping a pistol tightly.

"I'm so broke I might as well start farming. Guess you're here for me, huh?"

"You're the client named Wells, right?"

"No need to be so formal—just call me Jackie, por favor."

"In that case, you can call me Leo." Leo's gaze swept the floor and landed on the box beneath Jackie's foot. "Is this what needs transporting?"

Unexpectedly, Jackie didn't jump straight to business.

"Where I'm from, we like to get to know each other a bit before talking business. It's a tradition…or maybe just good manners, you know?"

"You think we can become that close after just a few words? Honestly, I'm not sure I follow."

Leo couldn't help thinking of Charrie.

Nomads always say: "Everything is for the family"

They're probably the best example of a real connection.

But who would've thought that the leader who always preached "family interests above all" would abandon the Bakker family at the final moment, leaving by himself.

"Doesn't matter if you don't get it. I'm good at reading people."

"Is that so? Alright, you are the one paying for my overtime after all."

Leo made a gesture inviting him to continue. "Since you brought it up, why don't you start?"

"No problem." Jackie shifted his posture slightly. "Jackie Welles, born and raised in Night City, pure Heywood blood."

"Sorry, I don't know what that means. I've never been to Night City."

"Then picture a place where everyone's like siblings, or at least distant cousins."

Jackie shrugged. "That's Heywood. Plus, everyone carries a piece."

"Sounds like you live in a gang-run neighborhood."

"Right, the Valentinos. Alright, your turn, amigo."

"Leo—I spent some time with the Bakkers family."

"You're a Nomad? But I heard Nomads usually don't deal much with city folk."

"I joined them later on, and that family's already gone now. People gotta eat somehow, right?"

"Makes sense." 

Jackie lifted his foot off the box and nudged it forward. Then, with a smirk, he tilted his head.

"Alright, the serious question now—what kinda woman you into?"

Leo arched a brow. "You really ask every new guy you meet that?"

Jackie chuckled. "Just getting to know you, mano. Me? I got a type—goth, kinda mysterious, but, you know… caring. Someone who gets that life's a mess but doesn't make it worse, y'know?"

He gave a nod, like he'd just shared something profound. "Alright, your turn."

Leo leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Jackie. "Who said I was into women?"

Jackie froze. "Oh—uh—"

Leo let the silence stretch just long enough to watch Jackie squirm before cracking a grin. "Relax, Welles, I'm messing with you. I like women. Just not the type to spill my preferences to every guy I work with."

Jackie exhaled, shaking his head. "Man, you had me for a sec." He muttered something in Spanish, running a hand through his hair.

Leo smirked. "Speaking of looks… that haircut, though. What happened? Your barber get distracted halfway through?"

Jackie scoffed. "Pfft. This? This is style, cabrón. Ain't my fault you got no taste."

Leo snorted. "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."

"Now let's get down to business cabrón. Here's the cargo. Take a look."

Though it was called a 'box,' it wasn't just any wooden crate.

It looked high-tech, with several small displays on the front.

"This box looks fancy. Have you opened it?"

"No."

"You don't know what you're shipping?"

"Not knowing helps me sleep at night. I'd rather stay in the dark—it's better that way."

"If that's how you want it…fine, let's get it loaded so we can wrap this up sooner."

"A huevo," Jackie said, hefting the box. Leo walked ahead, and they headed outside. Leo opened up the trunk.

"Man, this thing's heavy."

Jackie set the box inside, and the whole car dipped under the weight.

He casually slammed the trunk shut. "I almost thought you'd bailed on me."

"I should be saying that to you. Didn't we agree to meet in that little town outside the city? I went there and didn't see you. Took me a while to track you down."

Jackie chuckled and scratched the back of his head.

"Just keeping it low-profile, man. That dumbass sheriff kept going on about corporations and law and order. Clearly a total pain in the ass."

"True that."

Leo nodded in agreement.

…

The SUV sped down the highway, Joshua trees whipping past on both sides.

A billboard for CHOOH2 glowed with a soft white light.

Thin plumes of black smoke curled up from the tires as they burned against the road.

Recalling McCoy's instructions, Leo glanced over at Jackie in the passenger seat.

"Got the paperwork ready for crossing?"

Jackie answered matter-of-factly, "Of course. Didn't the fixer send you the forms?"

Leo's stomach tensed for a second.

He knew what a fixer was. But he'd never been to Night City, so there was no way any fixer had given him a gig. Still, he kept up appearances.

"Sure did. Just double-checking."

Seeing Leo's reaction, Jackie asked, slightly concerned,

"Listen, pal, we're professionals, right?"

Leo nodded.

He said nothing, and the atmosphere turned quiet. After a while, Jackie spoke again.

"Hey, have you...run a smuggling route like this before?"

"What, are you getting nervous?"

"Me? Ja, por favor."

Under Leo's subtle gaze, Jackie finally admitted, "Alright, maybe a little."

So it wasn't just Leo who was new at this—both of them were. No point in hiding it now.

And besides, when it came to business it was more so about being overtly confident than actually having experience...though this wasn't a typical business deal.

Silence fell once more. As they neared Night City, they started seeing more vehicles, all heading the same way.

"Hey, we're almost to the border. Now what?"

Leo could tell Jackie was probably green. He found it amusing.

"Don't worry, we'll just follow normal procedures."

"Which are...?"

"A vehicle scan, a document check—you know how it is."

Jackie gave a thumbs-up. "Claro."

Leo looked at him. "Relax, I'll do the talking."

Given Jackie's massive build, that gold bracelet, and all his tattoos, he hardly looked inconspicuous.

…

At the customs checkpoint:

When the car ahead passed its inspection and it was their turn, the border guard's voice sounded over the loudspeaker:

"Please drive your vehicle to the inspection area."

Armed guards manned the border, and cannon turrets kept a constant aim from their watchtowers…

Such heavy defenses would deter anyone from trying to force their way through.

Following instructions, Leo parked the car and waited for the scan.

Jackie, on the other hand, looked deeply uncomfortable.

He could handle guards, but those two turrets on either side, ready to shred them in a few seconds if anything went wrong, made him feel like he was on a grill. He muttered,

"I feel like we're done for."

Leo said nothing.

Sure, being nervous on your first run is normal, but don't jinx it.

Leo quickly tried to counter the bad omen. "Relax. This is standard procedure. Didn't you see it happen to the car ahead, too?"

Jackie paused. Thinking about it, that was true, so he calmed down a bit.

"Right, where's that customs form?"

Jackie handed over a sheet of black paper. Leo skimmed it and saw "L.O.A." in bold letters. Everything else was irrelevant—those three letters were all that mattered.

He recalled McCoy telling him: L.O.A. stood for "Lost On Arrival."