Gearbound: Cyberpunk 2077

2-in-1-chapter

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Leo nodded, his expression serious.

"If this were a utopian society, of course you wouldn't need to—but unfortunately, we live in reality, and if you don't do this, you'll suffer for it."

"Take the job you're trying to handle right now, for example. With eight million eurodollars, there's no way you can recruit reliable allies to help you deal with the Voodoo Boys. But you also can't offer more—why is that?"

"Because the London HQ didn't give you that much clearance. And why didn't they? To put it bluntly, it's because they think this job is easy, something that can be cleaned up casually."

Mosley frowned, recalling how every fixer in the city had turned him down.

"But this job isn't simple."

Leo spread his hands. "Exactly. But they don't see it that way. That's why you need to report back—spell out the actual risks for them. You've been a corporate drone for years; you don't need me to hold your hand on how to write a report, do you?"

He wasn't trying to screw Mosley over—he was trying to help him.

If Mosley could really secure a twenty‑million budget, and Leo received it, he'd honestly give Mosley three million. And as long as Mosley kept quiet, NetWatch wouldn't ever find out.

His colleagues had been steeped in this game for years. It was only this naive, honest one still in the dark.

Whether Mosley quit or stayed afterward didn't matter. If he stayed, Leo's advice would even help his career. In any workplace, the quiet ones always got shafted—that was true in every country. Foreign or not, people were still people, not robots.

Everything Leo said was correct, leaving Mosley with no way to refute him. Yet he couldn't shake a strange, uneasy feeling.

He didn't know why—but something was off.

Then, like a flash, realization struck him.

"Wait. Something's wrong."

"What's wrong?"

Mosley stared at Leo, his expression hardening.

"I almost let you talk me in circles. I admit the method you suggested might work, but I'm the client. Since you say you can solve my Voodoo Boys problem, I need to see that you actually have the ability—not just big talk."

"Let's be clear. If you're just trying to scam twenty million, I don't care how much you cut me in. I won't become a fraud with you."

If Leo really could finish the job, then Mosley could accept the three million with a clear conscience. But if Leo was a conman, even if he gave him the money, Mosley wouldn't dare take it. That money would burn in his hands.

Faced with Mosley's sudden suspicion, Leo chuckled.

So this guy might be an honest man, but he wasn't a fool. Even in the face of temptation, he held a bottom line. Staying cautious was a good habit—often, money wasn't stolen, it was conned away. And never assume victims are idiots. Plenty of educated people—professors, white‑collar workers, polished professionals—got duped all the same.

That Mosley had the awareness was a good sign.

Though questioned, Leo wasn't angry. He just smiled and said:

"Since I came to you and said I could handle the Voodoo Boys, then I'll handle them. A scam? Hah. I wouldn't stoop that low."

He knew if he couldn't prove his capability, Mosley wouldn't believe him. So he began to reveal some intelligence.

"The Voodoo Boys aren't like other gangs. Their numbers are tiny—less than one‑twentieth of Tyger Claws presence in Night City. But they've got elite netrunners, which is why others hesitate to deal with them."

"Pacifica is Haitian turf. The Haitians here naturally give the Voodoo Boys a cover."

"It's not just the language barrier. Fifteen years ago, when Pacifica saw massive construction, Haitians were brought in as cheap labor—to build hotels, theme parks, amusement facilities, pools, and all kinds of tourist attractions and luxury venues."

"So for Haitians, Pacifica became a second Haiti—their second homeland."

Mosley frowned as he thought. "You mean, to wipe out the Voodoo Boys, we'd need to drive out all the Haitians? Does your company even have that kind of manpower?"

He hadn't been in Night City long, but he'd read Pacifica's history these past few days. He knew the corps had conducted multiple major sweeps there before.

It hadn't worked. No matter how many times they cleared it, more gang members would rise up again and again. And it wasn't just the Voodoo Boys—there were dozens of other Haitian gangs, big and small. But none posed as great a threat as the Voodoo Boys.

Because it was never cleaned out, eventually the corps and capital abandoned Pacifica.

And now this young man wanted to exterminate Haitians entirely? Never mind the fallout—was that even possible?

"How could you even think something that extreme?"

But to Mosley's surprise, Leo looked back at him with the gaze one used for a demon.

For fuck's sake.

So that "honest corporate drone" act earlier was all fake?

Pacifica had at least hundreds of thousands of Haitians. And this corpo dog thought they should all be killed?

Arasaka Saburo, at least, only enslaved ordinary people and exploited them under Arasaka's boot.

But this guy—he was planning to kill hundreds of thousands outright. That was far more brutal than Arasaka Saburo ever was.

Mosley quickly waved his hands in denial. "No, no, no—you've got it wrong. I was just going along with what you said. Isn't that what you meant?"

Leo answered as if it were obvious.

"Of course not. What I meant earlier was that because of the Haitian immigrant presence, we can't send in a large force for a sweep."

"Otherwise, those Haitian immigrants will tip off the Voodoo Boys, and they'll relocate before the troops even arrive."

So he'd misunderstood.

Mosley's expression eased a little.

He didn't want to see a massacre, the NetWatch Corporation wouldn't support it, and he didn't believe Leo's PMC could pull it off anyway.

But since Leo said that a large mobilization would alert the Haitian immigrants, what was his plan to avoid that problem?

"Then what should we do?" Mosley asked.

Leo continued.

"What we need is a small, elite force secretly brought into Pacifica. Under the condition that no one is alerted, they'll quietly surround the Voodoo Boys' stronghold and launch a sudden strike."

"I already mentioned before that the Voodoo Boys don't have large numbers, so even with only a small elite force, we won't be at a disadvantage."

Mosley frowned. "Without alerting anyone? That's even possible?"

Leo nodded.

"Of course. Pacifica isn't bustling Japantown—it's a war zone. Hardly anyone dares wander the streets even in daylight, let alone at night."

"Moving under cover of night, we can act without anyone noticing."

"Nighttime?" Mosley echoed, surprised.

He hadn't paid much attention to what Pacifica was like after dark. Ever since being placed under the Animals protection at the Grand Imperial Mall, he hadn't left once. He spent twenty‑four hours a day inside the mall's theater projection room.

Not because he was a shut‑in, but because it was safer.

This wasn't the peaceful streets of London—it was Pacifica, where stray bullets flew through the air. He didn't want to get his head blown off by a round fired from God‑knew‑where while out for a walk.

Leo's plan sounded reliable—at least Mosley couldn't find fault with it.

No wonder the man dared to ask for twenty million euros.

These insights were leagues beyond what Mr. Hans could provide.

But still, this alone wasn't enough to make Mosley trust Leo completely. Just as he was about to demand more proof, Leo preempted him.

"But."

Mosley repeated, confused. "But?"

"Although the plan I just mentioned is good, it alone won't be enough."

"Not enough?" Mosley searched his memory again.

Leo had said Haitian immigrants sheltered the Voodoo Boys—Mosley agreed.

He said deploying a large force would only give them time to flee—Mosley agreed with that too.

So a small, elite team sounded perfect.

Not enough? Where was the flaw? He couldn't see it.

"In Pacifica, we'll need to establish a hideout. After we bring in the elite force, we settle them there first, wait a few days, and then strike the Voodoo Boys' stronghold."

"Why? Can't they just attack right after entering Pacifica?"

"It's better not to. Moving straight from another district takes too long. Forced marches ruin surprise. If anything unexpected happens, it could be disastrous. With a local hideout, we gain tactical flexibility."

Mosley thought it over and found the reasoning solid.

"Then how about setting the hideout in the Grand Imperial Mall?"

The Grand Imperial Mall had plenty of space. The Animals under King of Beasts (Sasquatch) couldn't possibly occupy it all. Allocating an area for Leo's people wouldn't be an issue.

Mosley's thought matched Leo's.

The mall was close to the Voodoo Boys' stronghold—barely a ten‑minute drive. And since everyone inside was an ally, there'd be no risk of leaks.

Then Mosley had an idea.

"What if, during your operation, Sasquatch and her Animals coordinated with you?"

Leo had said that the elite squad wouldn't be outnumbered by the Voodoo Boys, but adding the Animals would provide even more firepower.

Yet Leo immediately shot the idea down.

"No. Best not to."

"Why?" Mosley asked, unhappy.

He admitted this young man from this city was far more professional than him—but he couldn't understand why his suggestion wouldn't work.

"Because the Animals aren't professional soldiers. They're fine for street brawls, but for this? Better not."

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