"If you want more detailed intel, you can always commission us!" Claire Russell leaned in with a grin, eager to promote Afterlife's premium services. She earned a hefty commission for referrals, and vehicle customization wasn't exactly cheap.
"Oh? How much are we talking?" Leon Black asked casually, turning his head slightly toward her.
Claire raised five fingers with flair. "Only five thousand eddies. Just for you, Leon. Anyone else? I wouldn't even quote below five figures."
Her expression was the kind you'd see on a scam artist trying to sweet-talk an innocent rookie. But Leon wasn't buying. He knew the general outline of the story. Game knowledge was one thing—reality was something else entirely. He had no intention of getting involved in the deeper drama.
So what if Yorinobu Arasaka and his father Saburo had differing business ideologies? So what if Yorinobu snapped during a confrontation and murdered his father? To the average citizen, it was a shocking scandal. But to Leon, who had read thousands of web novels full of patricide, betrayal, and twisted family legacies, it was just another Tuesday.
The real danger wasn't the crime—it was the fallout.
This murder would throw Arasaka's internal structure into chaos. The city would descend into a storm of shifting power plays. Caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, and anyone could become collateral.
More importantly, getting involved meant crossing paths with V—the protagonist of this world. And Leon had no desire to play a supporting role in someone else's bleak and hopeless story. No matter which ending V chose in the game, none were happy.
Becoming a legend in Night City always came with a price.
Leon didn't want to be someone else's cost.
"You that desperate for cash?" Lily Cross muttered, sipping her drink. Having lived a cushy life, she never truly grasped how expensive survival was in Night City.
"I wish I wasn't," Claire sighed. "Living costs here are brutal. And I've got to soup up my ride for the Death Race qualifiers."
"Find another mark," Leon said bluntly, pulling a 100 eddie note from his pocket and tossing it onto the table. "I'm not interested in inside info."
Claire, slightly disappointed, nodded and turned to leave. But before she could fully exit the booth, a group of large, intimidating men entered the room, surrounding a figure at their center.
Claire froze, quietly stepping aside. Though Afterlife was full of outlaws, racers, mercs, and fixers, even she knew better than to provoke this woman.
"The Queen of Night City, the Fixer of Fixers, owner of Afterlife—Ms. Rogue." Ethan Cross paused mid-bite, placing down his lamb leg and straightening up as the white-haired woman walked in. Her golden-yellow top and sleek black leather pants radiated both style and power.
No one would guess she was pushing eighty.
Leon, too, held Rogue in high regard. Everyone knew she had once bombed Arasaka Tower with her crew and survived. And yet, Arasaka hadn't dared retaliate—not because they forgave her, but because her reputation alone was too dangerous to challenge.
She was a living legend.
Seeing her in person for the first time, Leon finally understood the limits of the game. No cutscene or lore dump could truly portray the gravity of her presence.
As Rogue passed their booth, she briefly turned her head toward them. Her eyes locked on Ethan.
That gaze—sharp, unflinching, predatory—cut through him like a blade. Ethan froze. It felt like his mind was being scanned, stripped, dissected.
Cyber-optic scan. High-end. Possibly military grade.
Ethan couldn't move. The pressure was too intense. His breath caught. Even his limbs refused to respond.
Then, suddenly, a figure stepped in front of him, blocking Rogue's line of sight.
"Captain…" Ethan whispered, relieved to see Leon standing calmly before him, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding his wine glass.
Leon gave Rogue a polite nod.
She didn't respond. She simply turned away and continued walking. To her, Leon was just another Arasaka grunt. She'd buried men far more dangerous.
"Damn… that was intense," Ethan exhaled as soon as Rogue disappeared into a private room. He flexed his fingers, shaking off the residual numbness. "That woman's something else."
"Of course," Leon replied. "She's a legend."
There weren't many living legends left in Night City, and none of them were easy to handle. Leon could tell Rogue hadn't even activated most of her cyberware. That subtle optical enhancement alone had nearly put Ethan into shock.
Which meant only one thing: Iconic gear.
Leon's eyes sharpened. Iconic items—one-of-a-kind weapons and tech—were rare and powerful. He had searched for many of them based on his game knowledge, but had found none. Until now.
If one existed… more might.
A troubling thought struck him.
He had seen Rogue before. He remembered her loadout. But this particular piece of cyberware—this Iconic optical mod—wasn't part of it.
Why did she suddenly have it now?
"Lena," Leon turned to Lena Fox. "Check in with all the ripperdocs. See if anything new or rare has hit the market lately. Lily, reach out to the weapons dealers. Look for any spikes in circulation."
The two women blinked, momentarily stunned, but nodded and immediately began making calls.
Claire, watching them quietly, took the hint and slipped away without a word.
Within a few minutes, Lena and Lily were done. Their expressions were grim as they exchanged glances.
"Leon," Lena said, "advanced cyberware and plugins—epic-grade—are suddenly showing up everywhere."
"Same with firearms and armor," Lily added. "Stuff we haven't seen on the streets in years."
That confirmed it.
Even though Saburo Arasaka's death hadn't been made public yet, powerful people had already caught the scent of chaos. Opportunists were emerging from the shadows. Someone—or many someones—were planning something big.
Night City was about to change.
"We need to prepare," Leon muttered. "Lena, transfer funds to Lily. You two handle procurement. Buy everything that's useful—cyberware, gear, mods. Pay on delivery, and verify everything before the deal. No risks."
The two women nodded, grabbed their coats, and left swiftly. As the team's primary buyers, they were well-known in Night City's underground markets. Being attractive didn't hurt either—merchants often offered them small discounts or early previews of rare gear.
"Captain," Ethan leaned in curiously, "what's going on?"
"Minor storm brewing. I just want us ready."
Leon glanced at Ethan. "You still in touch with your friends at the Tokyo HQ?"
Ethan nodded. "A few close ones. They're super jealous of my current life, though."
Even if he couldn't tell them exactly what he did, Ethan loved showing off his lifestyle—fast cars, fancy rifles, sleek apartments.
Ethan was the definition of a carefree hedonist. Budgeting was foreign to him. If he wanted something, he got it. After all, who knew if they'd survive the next mission?
Leon didn't judge. Everyone had their own way of surviving.
"Reach out to them. Something might come of it."
Ethan didn't understand why, but nodded anyway.
Ding-ling~ Ding-ling~
Leon's communicator vibrated. He checked the ID and accepted the call.
"Hey, Arasaka kid!" a rough voice greeted him. "Your goods are in. Want to take a look?"
Dino Dinovic appeared on screen, wearing his usual black vest and sunglasses. He waved like they were old friends.
"That was quick, Dino," Leon chuckled.
"Of course it was. Who do you think I am?"
Leon smiled but didn't say what he was thinking.
You're the sketchiest fixer I know.
Dino worked the Corporate Plaza district—Arasaka's backyard. Naturally, he had zero clout in a place crawling with real power. So he took up side gigs. "Easy loans," recreational enhancers, and lately, vehicle smuggling.
Car smuggling had shockingly high margins. If you made it past the checkpoints, the profits were enormous.
"Alright, enough chatter. Where's my ride?" Leon asked.
"Took me some effort, but you've got excellent taste," Dino grinned. He flipped the camera, revealing a dimly lit warehouse.
A sleek, silver-gray Quadra Type-66 "Avenger" sat in the corner.
6.0-liter twin-turbo engine. 777 horsepower V12. Modified AWD system. Scissor doors.
Classic, stylish, brutal.
It looked retro, but it was an icon in its own right. Rated "sexiest street car" by someone—no one knew who.
But Leon didn't care. He loved it.
He'd spent years scraping by, relying on stolen rides and borrowed bikes. Now, he could finally reward himself.
"Drop me the location," Leon said, admiring the car.
"I'll deliver it," Dino said smugly. "I don't exactly hand out my address, you know? Some of these cars came from... less than legal places."
"Afterlife. I'll be here," Leon replied.
"Cool. That'll be 750,000 eurodollars," Dino said, rubbing his fingers together with a smile.
pàtréóñ(Gk31)