Chapter 17

Money was a wonderful thing—especially in a place like Night City. One eurodollar could stump even the bravest of heroes. Without money, you couldn't take a single step.

But the thought of stealing a car—immoral and certainly not encouraged—made Leo's face go stone-cold.

"I ain't no thief," he muttered.

Yes, he was strapped for cash, but he still had his principles. Even in a place as rotten as Night City, some lines just couldn't be crossed.... at least if he couldn't get some good personal points from it

"Hold on, don't reject it so fast," Jackie said, as if guessing Leo's reasons for refusing. "I want to show you something first."

Jackie tapped away on the laptop again and opened a video. The footage looked like it came from a press conference: a Japanese man in a sharp suit and glasses spoke into the camera with a stiff, awkward accent.

"In my view, Night City's poverty problem is easy to solve. City Hall merely needs to enact one policy: for every scalp from a poor resident turned in, you get a hundred eurodollars," he said. "Believe me, by next Thanksgiving, the poor will be as rare as endangered animals."

A sultry female host holding a mic asked nervously, "Don't you think that's too cruel to the poor?"

The Japanese man burst out laughing. "Cruel? What does that even mean? The only reason the lower class in Night City stays poor is that they're not working hard enough, and they lack gratitude.

"In my home country of Japan, the wealthy live in bright, luxurious villas while the poor stay in moldy, decaying slums. But the poor don't feel resentment or hatred, because they know they share a bright future with the rich."

Leo felt his blood pressure surge. His fists balled up in anger.

"So we're going after that guy?" he asked, voice low. "I'm in. Count me in, Jackie."

"I knew I could count on you," Jackie said. "All right, let's get going."

While riding the metro to the Embers Club, Leo suddenly had a question. In the early 21st century, high-end phones already had remote self-destruct features if they got too far from their owner. Now that it was 2077, a luxury car's security system was bound to be even more airtight. How would they pull it off? The alarm would probably go off the second they came close.

When Leo mentioned his concern, Jackie just shrugged. "I already thought about that," he said. "I've never been inside Embers, but I know their routine. Guests show up, toss their keys to the valet. The valet parks the car in the underground lot, then hands the key over to the security office. Once the guest finishes partying, the valet picks up the key from security and brings the car around. All we need to do is head straight to security, grab the key to that fancy ride, and drive off."

---

In the northern part of The Glen, everything looked different. The farther north you went, the more prosperous it became. Especially around City Hall, it almost felt like stepping into America's golden age under the New Deal. You saw no jobless crowds or run-down tenements—no gang activity.

Instead, one could see patrolling police cars and uniformed officers on many streets. There was no doubt the area near City Hall enjoyed far better security than the southern side of The Glen.

After stepping off the metro, Leo and Jackie walked toward the Embers Club.

"Who was that fixer who called you?" Leo asked.

"Wakako Okada. Some call her the Queen of Westbrook. Well, she isn't literally a queen, but pretty close if you ask me," Jackie said.

Though he was a big guy, Jackie clearly wasn't stupid. He had already guessed Leo's earlier mention of a "fixer gig" had probably been fake. But since Jackie had once considered ditching Leo himself, it all evened out. Now that they were partners, Jackie was patient enough to explain.

"In Night City, fixers aren't rare. They're organizers, brokers, go-betweens. They always know what's going on in the streets. They know whose money smells fine and whose job stinks from a mile away. Each fixer has their own style, but they all follow one rule: if you work for them, they won't leave you high and dry. Of course, it works both ways. If you screw over a fixer… well, see how that ends."

"So nobody tries to cut out the fixer?" Leo asked, curious. "What if mercenaries and clients just do deals on their own?"

Jackie laughed. It was a question all newcomers to Night City asked sooner or later.

"You can try, sure. But after getting burned once or twice—or not getting paid, or taking a bullet in the gut—you'll see why you need a solid fixer. Prove your skills, and you'll never lack jobs. A fixer will get you a decent crew, negotiate a solid price—since they take a cut—and pull you out of trouble if it crops up…unless you royally screw up. In that case, no one can help you. But once we really make a name for ourselves, we won't have to deal with fixers if we don't want to. We can tell them all to shove off."

Leo nodded. As they walked, he spotted a weapon store along the street.

"Hold on," he said. "I'll be right back."

"What's up?" Jackie asked, sounding puzzled.

Unlike a gun shop in a more regulated world, a weapons store in Night City required no proof of anything—just money. Most shops carried low-end brands, though. If you wanted mid- to high-tier gear from Militech, Constitutional Arms, Kang Tao, or Arasaka, you had to try your luck on the black market, usually at jacked-up prices.

Leo had no plans to go high-end. He just picked up a few flashbangs and smoke grenades for insurance. By the time he paid, Jackie had caught up.

"Why buy that stuff?" Jackie whispered. "We're picking up a car, not starting a war."

Leo lowered his voice too. "I've got a bad feeling."

Jackie paused. "Does that feeling pop up a lot?"

"No," Leo admitted. "But every time it does, something bad happens."

Jackie swore under his breath in Spanish. He believed Leo but refused to let it stop him. Okada's fee was just too tempting. All he could do now was hope for the best, then adapt if things went south.

…

Towering skyscrapers loomed above twisting streets. Neon glows lit a concrete ballet. Spotlight beams and giant screens shone across the skyline, while bulky AVs drifted like schools of fish.

Embers Club finally lay before them.

"This way," Jackie said.

They headed to the alley beside the massive building. A homeless man rummaged through a pile of garbage, fishing out empty cans. He tucked them quickly into his clothes, fearful of having them snatched away. Jackie and Leo ignored him, heading straight to a side-door elevator.

When the doors opened, they found a narrow corridor lined with multiple doors on each side, all leading who knew where. They followed the hall and pushed open a bigger door that led to the underground parking garage.

Bright lights showed row upon row of high-end vehicles—sports cars, muscle cars, SUVs, you name it.

"Get down and follow me," Jackie whispered.

Naturally, there were cameras all over. But Jackie knew about their blind spots—after all, this was just a nightclub, not the Arasaka Tower. As long as they stuck to the walls and reached the security room, they could grab the supercar's key and shut down the lot's surveillance.

But when the two finally crept up to the security room, they found something unexpected: it was empty.

Where was the guard? A live human couldn't just vanish. Did they wander off to slack on the job?

"Shit," Jackie muttered beside him.