Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077

"Right at this time?" padre said with a mild, genial smile. "I hear Santo Domingo's been anything but peaceful lately. Word on the street is there's a new fixer in town, goes by 'Old Captain.'"

Faraday's eyelid twitched at the mention of "Old Captain," but he pretended not to care.

"Old Captain… Muammar Reyes used to be a corporate lapdog. Now he thinks he can jump into the fixer game?"

He smirked. "Fixing isn't for amateurs. Let your guard slip, and you'll end up with a client and a merc squad both gunning for your head."

Padre continued looking all kinds of cordial. "So you're quite confident, then."

"It's not about confidence—he's just not cut out for the job. Mark my words, give him a year. If he's not dead, he'll wash his hands of this whole mess. Santo Domingo's only got room for one fixer—me."

While the two exchanged polite barbs, a voice interrupted:

"Ah, you're both here already. Good—no wonder they call you two of the city's more reliable fixers."

They turned to find another man in a suit coming over. Unlike Faraday, he hadn't upgraded his face with any visible cybernetics; just the typical corporate attire. The newcomer stopped at the table occupied by Faraday on one side and Padre on the other.

But Padre, reacting quicker, slid further into his seat, patting the bench beside him.

"Child, you don't mind being a bit closer to the Lord's servant, do you?"

"No objection, Father."

Had Maine's crew been around, they would've recognized this well-dressed client from their previous protection job. Padre and Faraday exchanged a look. They had guessed, upon seeing each other at Tom's Diner, that they must be competing for the same contract. Sure enough, it was confirmed now.

The man cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. He adjusted his glasses and spoke in a clipped tone:

"I'll keep this short. My schedule's packed, and I haven't time to waste."

"A few days ago, someone tried to kill me. It was an ex-colleague of mine; he hired the Animals gang. Why ex? Because that bastard's rotting in some abandoned Santo Domingo factory. A few days on, he's probably stinking by now. He may be dead, but the Animals who attacked me are still free and clear."

He narrowed his eyes. "Which leads me here. Gentlemen, I want you to wipe out the leader of that Animals crew. I want his head."

Padre gave a slight nod. Jobs like this popped up in Night City a hundred times a day, possibly more.

"I see, sir. But one thing I don't get: why hire two fixers?"

Faraday's gaze drifted to Padre. "We've worked together before, and my people left quite the impression. Didn't they?"

"Because I want absolute certainty," the client replied, voice firm. "I won't let any Animals slip away to hunt me down later. Understand?"

"I've got one request, my child," said Padre in his slow, deliberate way. "My people will fulfill your demands, but they won't split the fee with Faraday's people. We get our own share."

In other words, since the client had entrusted the job to two fixers, he couldn't pay a single sum and expect them to divide it. Each fixer would require a separate fee.

…

"Breakfast's here!"

Leo arrived carrying trays of Chinese noodles and set them on the table for V and Jackie: luósī fěn for V, hot dry noodles for Jackie. Then he sat down to savor his own bowl of beef noodles, taking a slow sip of the broth.

A single mouthful of soup, and he felt rejuvenated.

"So what's this gig about?" he asked between bites.

Early that morning, Jackie had gotten a call from Padre—and immediately roused both Leo and V. Of course, they still insisted Leo whip up another round of his cooking before heading out, having enjoyed his Chinese dishes so much last time. Now the three sat around a table in the El Coyote, eating and talking.

Jackie slurped down a mouthful of noodles. "Remember your first time in Night City—on the overpass in Santo Domingo? We saw that freeway shootout?"

Leo nodded. He wasn't about to forget something that crazy.

"Well, turns out the Galena under attack by the Animals that day was carrying our current client. He wants the leader of that Animals gang—who ambushed him—taken out. Night City's Animals are split up into little crews, no single top boss, so we just have to deal with the one bunch that jumped him."

V cocked her head. "Are we working alone on this?"

Jackie shook his head. "Nope, there's a second merc team operating in Santo Domingo. They got the same request, from a different fixer. Our target's the same, though."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Padre hired them too?"

"Nah, the client hired two fixers. That's rare but not unheard of. Means we'll have to coordinate on this job. Don't worry—I got your back," Jackie said, patting his chest. "Stick with me."

Leo smirked. "Appreciate it, but I can take care of myself."

---

They finished breakfast and piled into the car. About half an hour later, they pulled up to a long-abandoned construction site in Santo Domingo.

"Drive on in," Jackie said. "They're farther inside."

Sure enough, deeper in the lot, they spotted a hot-pink sedan with four people scattered around it. Seeing Leo's SUV approach, the four turned as one to check them out.

Leo, V, and Jackie hopped out and walked over.

"You must be Padre's mercs, right?" one of them—a big guy up front—asked.

Jackie nodded. "And you guys must be Faraday's crew" 

The big guy lifted a hand to himself. "Name's Maine." He motioned around. "Dorio…"

A tough-looking woman, built like a tank, gave them a thumbs-up.

"…Rebecca…"

A twin-tailed girl—whom Leo vaguely recalled from that same overpass shootout—smiled and waved.

"…Sasha."

A catlike girl with a puffy hairstyle—only missing the ears for a full catgirl vibe—offered a shy grin.

Leo's trio gave their names in turn. Maine, not one for idle chatter, studied them.

"You look decent enough. Let's hope you stay that way in the field."

Then he got down to business. "Let's go over the plan."

He nodded to Sasha, who produced a laptop and placed it on the pink car's hood, beckoning them over. They crowded around the screen. After a flurry of keystrokes, an image appeared: a muscle-bound man even bulkier than Maine.

"That guy's the leader of this Animals crew. In the Animals, might makes right—whoever's the biggest badass calls the shots. They juice themselves on horse growth hormones and max-test boosters."

The Animals prided themselves on raw physical power and pseudo-feral alterations—tiger-striped skin or bestial jaws. Unlike Maelstrom's obsession with metal, these guys chased the savage, primal side of humanity, eager to transcend any boundary between man and beast. Spread across Night City without a singular hierarchy, each small crew followed its own alpha.

Maine explained, arms folded. "We learned this boss heads out to a black market in Pacifica's coastal neighborhood every so often to buy new 'supplements.'"

V raised a hand. "Wait, wouldn't he send a minion? Why do it himself?"

"He doesn't trust anyone else—fears they'll bring back faulty product," Maine said. "A broken TV means you're out a few eddies. A bad batch of steroids rots your body. It's personal."

He pointed at a map on the screen. "Their base is an apartment building full of civilians. Storming it means they can hole up and drag out the fight, maybe turning into a big standoff. That's no good. So we'll ambush him at the black market. That market's in an underground parking garage with only two entrances. You watch one exit, we watch the other. Let the boss go inside so we don't spook him too soon. Then we radio each other, converge, and trap him inside once everyone's in place."

The plan sounded tight. No one disagreed. Without further delay, they split into their vehicles and headed to Pacifica.

…

A quick glance might trick you into thinking Pacifica still resembled the grand blueprint once envisioned…