Morning
I wanted to sleep a little longer, but a certain furry hairball with legs decided otherwise. The instant I started to drift back into dreamland, I felt the familiar weight pressing down on my stomach.
"Lola, come on, at least give me five more minutes," I groaned, my voice still thick with sleep.
She didn't listen.
Instead, she jumped up with enthusiasm, dragging her claws gently but firmly against my chest. Then, without warning, she grabbed my shirt with her teeth and pulled me right off the bed.
"Bunk!" I exclaimed, half-laughing, half-protesting.
"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Lola seemed to say, clearly declaring her morning agenda: Get Jack out of bed. Mission accomplished.
I gave up fighting. "Fine, drag me to the bathroom then," I muttered, surrendering to my best friend's stubbornness.
So there I was, a grown man being literally dragged by a German Shepherd across the polished floor of my Heywood apartment — a place definitely above average, not the cheap dive I expected when I first woke up here. The décor was sharp and modern, with subtle chrome touches that reminded me a little too much of the game. It was still strange to realize this wasn't just pixels on a screen anymore.
Once we reached the bathroom, I staggered upright and caught sight of myself in the sleek mirror above the sink. The reflection was almost surreal — no chrome augmentations glinting in the light, no exposed wiring or cybernetic ports showing anywhere on my body. Not even that creepy little socket embedded in the side of my head, or the USB cable permanently tethered to my wrist in the game's default avatar. I honestly feel lucky.
In the game, all those implants look cool, but in reality? It's more like watching someone pull out their own blood vessels for fun. Creepy as hell.
I studied myself carefully. My face was the product of hours spent tweaking sliders to get a version of me, as close as possible, given the game's limits. Not too handsome, not ugly — just right. I never liked the idea of looking like someone completely different. I shuddered at the thought of ending up with a female model — nope, no thanks.
Suddenly, I felt a sharp bite on my ankle.
"Ouch! What was that for?" I yelped, looking down at Lola, who turned her head nonchalantly and trotted out of the bathroom like she owned the place.
Did she bite me because I was thinking badly about women?
Whatever the reason, I had more pressing concerns. How the hell was I supposed to hack terminals now? Usually, someone hands me a chip loaded with information or coordinates for a job, but I don't have any physical cyberware — no ports, no data jacks, nothing. It's funny, because even without the chrome, I still have my operating system mods and crazy hacking abilities. I tested it yesterday — hacked a car mid-drive without breaking a sweat.
I don't want to have to visit a Reaper dock just to get some chip shoved into my skull or cables plugged into my arms. Besides, my defense stats are maxed — I'm basically bulletproof from the inside out.
"It's just an animation," I muttered. "There are plenty of ways to hack a system." Then, suddenly, a thought hit me.
I activated my system's interface.
The interface blinked and loaded a small icon — the key item mod I'd picked up earlier.
"Yes, it's here," I said quietly.
You know that feeling when you play a game, see an animation or a mod, and think, That could be so much cooler in real life? Well, this was one of those moments.
What I held in my hands was a sleek, futuristic cell phone — not just any device. This was a key item mod, unhackable, unstealable, and fully integrated with my system. With this little beauty, I could insert any chip and hack into terminals remotely, no matter the distance.
"Who would've thought it was just a simple animation mod?" I said, grinning to myself.
After scarfing down a quick breakfast, Lola and I headed out. Before leaving, I tipped the guy at the reception desk — a little gesture that felt good to make in a city that could chew you up and spit you out without a second thought.
"Thank you for the tip, Mr. 8. Have a great day!" he said with a friendly nod.
Just like yesterday, people were watching us, but the Valentino gang members seemed to keep their distance. Honestly, I preferred it that way. I don't want to keep getting jumped just because Lola's here with me.
When we finally arrived at El Coyote, the bar fell into an uneasy silence. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared — and by "everyone," I mean Lola. She has a way of stealing the spotlight.
I didn't care. I headed straight to the bar and scanned the room, searching for one familiar face.
"Hi, what drinks do you have?" I asked the bartender.
"That depends," he replied with a grin. "Light alcohol, strong stuff, or maybe a special Coyote cocktail?"
"Light alcohol, please," I said.
"Coming right up."
The bartender's name was Pepe. I vaguely remembered hearing about him from some mission V had — something about investigating his cheating wife. Not exactly memorable, but he seemed solid enough.
Just then, a voice called out behind me. "Oh my God, is that a dog?"
Turning around, I saw the owner of the bar — a woman in her forties with a warm, commanding presence. Guadalipe Alejandra Welles. Known around these parts as Mama Welles. (Yeah, I had to Google that.)
"Well, hello there, girl. What's your name?" she asked, kneeling down to Lola's level.
"Woof," Lola replied proudly.
"That's a beautiful name. Can I pet her?"
"Woof," came the answer again.
"She said yes," I said, smiling.
Suddenly, the whole bar seemed to lighten up. Lola was the center of attention, surrounded by people eager to pet her or slip her treats. The atmosphere was different here — warm, inviting, almost peaceful compared to the chaos outside.
"So, what's your name, stranger?" Mama Welles asked, extending a hand.
I shook it firmly. "Name's 8. And you are?"
"Alejandra Welles, but most folks just call me Mama Welles."
Mama Welles. The name carried weight. I'd heard rumors — she was kind of famous in Heywood.
"Well, aren't you a polite young man? You're not from around here, are you? Did you have trouble getting in?"
"I just arrived yesterday," I said, scratching my cheek thoughtfully. Then, deciding honesty was the best policy, I added, "To tell you the truth, I was assaulted by three Valentino gang members. They wanted to take Lola from me. I said no and told them to leave us alone. They weren't happy about that and wanted to kill me."
Mama Welles' eyes widened. "Oh my God. What happened next?"
"I didn't have a choice. I killed two of them."
"Two? Didn't you say there were three?"
"Yeah. Two tried to kill me. The third one? I spared."
"Spared? Why?"
"She only wanted to steal from me. I didn't have the heart to kill someone who was praying."
Mama Welles just stood there, silent. I couldn't meet her eyes. Instead, I looked anywhere but at her, wishing the awkward silence would break.
Then she did something unexpected.
She pulled me into a warm hug.
"I'm sorry for what happened to you. You really are a good person," she said softly.
I hugged her back, grateful for the comfort. Maybe that's why everyone calls her Mama Welles — she's like a mother figure, the kind of person who gives you hope in a city that's forgotten what that feels like.
We sat down and talked for hours, sharing stories and plans. It was the most normal conversation I'd had since waking up in Night City.
Then, finally, the person I was waiting for showed up.
"Mama, I'm home!" a familiar voice called.
Jackie.
I smiled, relief flooding me. Jackie was still alive.
Mama Welles beamed. "Jackie, my boy, come here."
Jackie's eyes landed on Lola. He crouched down and called, "Come here, boy. Come."
Lola growled softly.
"Easy there, boy. I'm not dangerous."
"It's not because you're dangerous," I said with a smirk, "It's because you called her boy instead of girl."
Jackie laughed. "Oh, really? Sorry about that, girl."
"Woof," Lola replied, forgiving him.
"I think she accepted your apology," I said.
Mama Welles looked at Jackie seriously. "Where have you been? Don't lie to me."
Jackie shrugged. "Don't worry, Mama. Just doing a job — delivering a crate. That's it."
Mama raised an eyebrow. "Does the crate have anything illegal in it?"
Jackie hesitated. "No… maybe. But it's gonna earn us a lot of money."
"Spit it out."
Suddenly, a woman's voice interrupted from behind Jackie.
"It was a lizard. An almost extinct animal."
I turned to see the protagonist of the game herself, looking just like the cover art but dressed in rugged nomad clothes.
End of chapter.