Beep, beep, beep, beep!
The medical instrument's alarm screamed in unison with Evelyn's rising fury. Judy was her best friend—her only family.
How could this happen? How could she let that man toy with her like this?!
"Oh? Already fired up?" Leon Black sneered in a low voice, ignoring the blaring alarm. "Can't wait to see it, huh? Don't worry. That day's not far off—so you'd better stay alive."
With that, Leon casually set the Braindance device on the bedside table and turned to leave.
Evelyn, still hooked to her support systems, ignored the deafening alarm. Her eyes locked onto the Braindance device with Judy's signature carved into it.
"Live. I must live. I must save Judy!"
---
Leon walked into the innermost operating room. On the monitor, Lena Fox floated in a nutrient-filled chamber, like a sleeping mermaid. Peaceful and elegant, yet her slightly furrowed brows betrayed discomfort—the new skin grafting process was far from pleasant.
Leon had originally intended to speak with her about Aoi and his next move. But after what had just happened with Evelyn, the desire to share faded. He stood silently, watching.
After a long pause, his communicator buzzed.
"Leon, the bomb's ready," came Mike Taylor's gravelly voice.
"Good. I'll be right there."
Leon hung up and rotated his shoulders. There was no creaking anymore—only a subtle vibration as his titanium memory-metal bones shifted smoothly back into place.
He had long forgotten the minor physical joys of being a normal human. Every new modification brought more power... but took a little more of his humanity.
A machine? Not quite. His brain remained organic, albeit paired with an onboard operating system now.
"Technology, huh..." he muttered, chuckling as he straightened his collar and smoothed back his hair.
Even if the world ended tomorrow, Leon Black would still wear a crisp suit today.
---
Full Food Factory – Vortex Gang territory
Leon arrived, with Mike Taylor behind him carrying a black box. They stood beneath a rusted surveillance camera.
"Who are you?!" A synthetic, high-pitched voice crackled from a busted loudspeaker.
"Here for business," Leon replied flatly, nodding at Mike.
Mike held up the black box for the camera.
The voice barked again, "What business?!"
Leon narrowed his eyes slightly. "That's not your concern. Tell your boss we're here."
"That's not how it works! You don't state your purpose, you don't get in! I've got principles!"
Leon raised an eyebrow.
Principles? The Vortex Gang? That's rich.
Still, arguing was pointless.
"We're here to buy the Flathead."
A pause.
"Hmm... alright, wait there."
Moments later, the metal shutter creaked open, revealing a wiry man with glowing red cyber-eyes and a patched tactical vest.
"You're here for the Flathead?" he asked, scrutinizing the duo.
Leon gave a slight nod.
The man glanced at Mike, then motioned. "Follow me."
They entered a dim corridor littered with busted lockers, discarded steel, and piles of rotting food buzzing with flies.
"My name's Dum Dum. Who told you we have a Flathead?" he asked while leading them through the mess.
Leon didn't break stride. "You don't need to know. All you should care about is whether we brought the money."
His eyes briefly scanned the ground—numerous anti-personnel mines buried carelessly along the edges.
Dum Dum let out a dry laugh. "If you didn't bring enough... well, you'll pay with your lives."
They didn't respond. Mike remained silent, and Leon stood calm as a statue.
The elevator ride up was quiet. Eventually, they stepped into what looked like a lounge—old sofas, flickering lights, and gunmen lounging around like junkyard wolves.
Leon looked around. "Where's your boss—Brick?"
Dum Dum raised a brow, lighting a stick of Black Lace. "You know Brick?"
Leon reached into his pocket, tapped the bottom of his cigarette pack, and a stick popped up. He lit it with a skull-emblazoned golden lighter, then exhaled slowly.
"Of course I do."
Dum Dum fell silent. Despite all the bravado and drugs, he could tell Leon wasn't someone to be trifled with. Even with all the Vortex gunners watching, Leon didn't flinch.
"So, where is he?" Leon asked, flicking ash onto the floor.
Before Dum Dum could answer, a gruff voice cut in:
"Brick's not in charge anymore. I am!"
A tall, burly man stepped out from a locked chamber, half his face glowing crimson. He pointed a gun at Leon.
Leon tilted his head, studying the man.
"Royce?" he asked calmly. "Didn't expect you to take over."
Royce froze. Recognition flashed in his glowing eyes. Then, a wide grin split his face.
"Well damn... if it isn't Leon Black!"
Leon smiled and rose from the sofa, arms open.
Royce tossed his pistol to Dum Dum and strode over. The two embraced like old war buddies, shocking the nearby gang members.
"You're looking good, Royce," Leon chuckled, giving him a solid punch to the chest.
Royce grinned and returned the gesture. "Still alive—that's what counts."
---
Their bond was forged in chaos.
...
Back then:
"Hey! Stop running, I'm not here to hurt you!" Leon shouted from behind a crumbling wall, cigarette in hand.
Ahead, a man with a half-mangled face and wild eyes pointed a pistol at him, bleeding from the mouth.
"Bullshit! You're just another corporate lapdog!"
Leon shrugged. "Corp dogs are corp dogs. I'm just a delivery guy. You jacked Arasaka's goods, not mine."
Even though he wore the standard Arasaka employee suit, there was something disarming about his tone—casual, even humorous.
"Why would I risk my life for some megacorp trash? If you hadn't wrecked my car, I wouldn't have chased you."
The bruised man—Royce, though he wasn't called that yet—blinked in confusion.
Leon sighed. "That ride? It was mine. Bought it outright with a loan. Do you know how expensive insurance is these days? Now I've gotta pay for repairs out of pocket."
"I ain't got money," Royce muttered. He still had a shred of conscience—he knew breaking someone's stuff came with consequences. But he was flat broke.
Leon waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I'm not in a rush to collect."
Royce's brows furrowed. "Then... what do you want?"
Leon smiled. "A partnership."
Royce lowered his gun slowly. "What kind of partnership?"
"A heist."
Leon explained: Night City had its own manufacturing plants, but many materials still came from outside. Nomads in the Badlands survived by raiding convoys. The risks were huge, and only veteran crews knew which convoys to hit and when.
But with someone on the inside?
It could be profitable. Safe. And scalable.
That was the beginning.
Leon, just settling into Night City, and Royce, hungry for a name, shook hands in the shadows.
A dangerous alliance was born.
Øóffer going on for diamond tier
pàtreøn (Gk31)