Chapter 25

If Kirk had any sense, he'd already be grabbing his go-bag and running for the hills. 

All the hassle with Pepe's debt now seemed like a small matter in comparison to the Maelstrom predicament he was in. As long as Maelstrom existed, Kirk wouldn't dare show his face in this city. If he did have the nerve to return to the El Coyote, he wouldn't find Pepe begging him for leniency; he'd be the one begging Pepe not to sell him out to Maelstrom.

…

On the drive back, Leo asked Jackie to help him find an apartment. Staying in Jackie's windowless garage, shutters down day and night for (understandable) security reasons, was stifling. With multiple people cramped in a tiny garage, hot and stuffy to boot, it was high time to find a new place. 

He had enough money on hand for a few month's rent. 

"A place can be old, no problem, but I want it high up and clean. I'm not looking to share space with a dumpster." 

Night City was full of towering megabuildings—if you wanted a decent view, you needed a higher floor. Otherwise, you'd open your window to a wall right next door, like some Kowloon Walled City nightmare.

"No sweat. Leave it to me," Jackie said, patting his chest. Then, looking a bit sheepish, he added, "Uh, about that bet I lost…"

Leo waved it off. "We were just messing around, Jackie. You didn't actually think I'd hold you to that, right? Besides...I like this laptop"

Jackie let out a big breath. "Oh, a joke—yeah! Right, you were definitely joking. Ha!" 

Deep down, he'd worried Leo might expect him to try and eat that laptop. Hearing Leo clarify that it was only banter felt like a weight off his shoulders.

"There's one more thing," Leo said.

"Shoot." Jackie was in a great mood now, humming a bit of a Mexican folk tune. He figured even three or five more requests wouldn't faze him.

"Where can I get hold of materials and parts for gun-making?"

Jackie arched an eyebrow. "Any fixer can hook you up, but if they don't trust you, they won't sell. If you skip the fixer, there are other channels—riskier, pricier. But why do you need that stuff?"

Leo just shrugged. "Nothing special. I just want a side gig to make some extra cash."

---

"Dammit, how did things end up like this?!"

The minute Kirk got a call from his captured driver, he frantically stuffed essentials into a bag and took off. The driver—honest to a fault—had managed to sneak in a quick call while the border guards weren't watching, warning Kirk that he'd been busted.

Kirk instantly realized how dire his situation was. Night City's gangs were all bad news, but if there was one group you absolutely never wanted to cross, Maelstrom was near the top of the list.

Tiger Claws or 6th Street might just shoot you or lop off your head—grim, but at least it'd be over quickly. 

Maelstrom? Entirely different story. They were notoriously insane, delighting in using people as guinea pigs for body-mod "experiments." These hardcore cyborg junkies were the epitome of cyber-psychotic. If they got their hands on you, death wouldn't come easy—or soon. They would implant you with black-market or scavved cyberware, guaranteed to be incompatible and likely to drive you insane in the most gruesome way possible.

Kirk had no desire to face that gruesome future, so fleeing became his only option. As Leo had guessed, Pepe's debt was the least of Kirk's worries now.

…

"You're not planning to give up merc work, are you?" V asked, eyeing Leo curiously from the passenger seat.

"No, I just want a side hustle," he replied.

Back when he was still with the Bakkers, Leo's **Firearm Maintenance** skill had already reached **Level 5**. That included not just repairs but also assembly know-how for a wide range of kinetic and many tech weapons. Tech weapons, after all, used electromagnetic propulsion to launch metal slugs at hypervelocity—handy for punching through walls or covers.

Such weapons weren't sold in corner shops. You'd have to visit specialized arms dealers, and they charged a fortune. If you had the parts and materials—and a gunsmith—things got a lot cheaper, meaning serious profit potential.

Leo laid out his plan for Jackie and V.

"You can build guns?" Jackie asked, astonished. "All kinds?"

"Kinetic ones, yeah, as long as I've got parts and materials. I can even manage most tech weapons, except for the really complicated ones like the Achilles or the Nekomata. Smart weapons, though—I'm not too familiar with those."

He had barely finished speaking when Jackie and V gaped at him. It wasn't that they were naïve; it was just that…

Night City was brimming with folks who could shoot. But ones who could actually build guns were much rarer. And someone who could assemble advanced tech weapons? That was extraordinary.

"So what's your plan—open a gun shop?" V asked, raising an eyebrow.

Leo sighed. "No idea. That's why I asked Jackie, remember?"

Jackie was still reeling from the surprise that his new friend had such hidden talents. But he quickly gathered his thoughts, taking the problem as seriously as if it were his own.

"Materials and parts, yeah, that's best handled by a fixer. But if you don't already know someone you can trust…"

Leo shook his head. "Not a single fixer in this city do I know well enough to deal with."

Jackie thumped a hand on his chest. "Don't sweat it, bro. I've known Padre for ages."

"Same here," V put in, giving Leo a wink. "I know Padre too. If both of us vouch for you, he's sure to help."

Jackie grinned. "Exactly! Double the pull! He'll have to show us respect, haha."

The three shared a laugh, then Jackie grew serious. "But if you want to open an actual gun shop, it's a huge pain in the ass. You need to register with the NCPD, file paperwork with City Hall, and then get a retail license from whichever manufacturer's guns you plan to sell."

"I won't need the manufacturer's license," Leo said. "I'm not stocking their guns."

Jackie shook his head. "You do. If you sell any brand's guns, you need their permission, or you're just a black-market dealer. One random tip-off, and you're done—either the NCPD or the corp's private security will come knocking."

"NCPD might just fine you and force you to shut down for a while. But a corporate security team? You really don't wanna meet those guys," V added, shivering at the thought.

Listening to them, Leo felt a headache coming on. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It's all that complicated?"

He'd been in Night City only briefly but had seen gun shops everywhere, even supermarkets and convenience stores selling firearms. He'd assumed it was simpler.

"And that's not even all of it," Jackie continued. "To open a shop, you need a place, right? Good location costs a pile in rent. Cheaper spots are crappier and less safe—you'll get robbed more often. And in Night City, no matter what business you run, you pay taxes to City Hall, the NCPD, **and** protection money to whatever gang claims the turf."

Leo's brow furrowed. "So you're saying opening a store in Night City is nearly impossible? Then how come there are so many shops, markets, and street stalls?"

Jackie shrugged. "You've only been here a few days, so it's normal not to know. Most of the folks you see running businesses have spent half their lives scraping together enough cash to open a place. Some inherited the shop from their folks. When the parents retire or pass on, the kids keep it going."

He paused. "Ever notice that most are barely hanging on? They rent in dodgier areas with lower safety standards, 'cause that's the only rent they can afford. And do you see any of them getting crazy rich from it—like affording a place in North Oak? I don't think so."

"Why not North Oak?" Leo asked, though he suspected the answer.

"It's not that they're too lazy to hustle," Jackie explained. "They just get taxed to death by the city and the cops, plus pay protection fees to whichever gang runs that district. By the time everyone's had a bite, almost nothing's left. That's why no matter how hard they work, they can't break out of this place."

…

**Meanwhile…**