"I'm broke enough to start farming out here in the dust, so yeah—you must be the one I'm waiting for, right?"
When Neo pulled up to the meeting point and stepped inside the half-collapsed apartment, the first thing he heard was Jackie Welles's familiar voice echoing through the room.
Jack was lounging on a torn-up couch, pistol in hand, one boot resting on a metal case.
"Jackie Welles?" Neo asked, feigning surprise, though the sight of that wide grin and heavy gold chain brought back every memory from his time playing Cyberpunk 2077.
"Jack. Por favor," Jack corrected with mock irritation, smirking.
"I'm V. Name's Neo," he said casually. "Call me whatever you like."
For his brother-in-arms, Neo didn't bother putting up a front.
Jack blinked, then grinned wider. "Neo, huh? Pretty cool, ese."
"Before we get too comfy," Jack continued, "you mind telling me why you're late? Not gonna lie, choom—I thought you ghosted me."
Neo shrugged. "There was an annoying cop in town."
Jack's face instantly darkened, then split into a laugh. "That pig, huh? Yeah, Andrew Jones is a total pendejo."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You know, back where I'm from, we got this thing—before we talk business, we shoot the breeze a bit. Call it manners. You dig?"
Neo leaned back on the old chair across from him. "Didn't take you for the sentimental type, Jack. Go ahead, I'm listening."
Jack nodded, eyes gleaming. "Man's gotta have pride, hermano. When everything else gets taken away, that's the one thing you keep. I'm a born and bred Night City boy—Heywood in my veins. You can picture it, yeah? A whole neighborhood where everyone's family. Maybe cousins, maybe not. But it's home. And in Heywood, everyone's packin'."
He paused, looking at Neo. "What about you, hermano?"
"Nomad," Neo said simply. "Been scraping by in the Badlands. No sob story, no life lessons. Just that."
Jack chuckled. "Man, you're something else." He kicked the iron crate toward him. "Guess what's inside."
Neo didn't even look down. "Someone lost it. Another picked it up. Passed around a few times. Now it's here. We just deliver and get paid. What's inside? Don't care."
Jack burst out laughing. "You're killing me, choom! I like you, Neo. You and I—we're gonna get along just fine."
"Then let's stop wasting time," Neo said coolly.
Jack hefted the crate and strode toward the door. "Man, I was worried you'd be unreliable. Turns out, you're solid as hell!"
"Holy shit!"
Jack froze at the threshold, nearly dropping the case on his own face.
Because parked right outside the building—was Andrew Jones's patrol car.
For a full second, Jack stood there gaping. The man he'd just praised was driving that.
"Neo," he said slowly, "please tell me you didn't steal that car."
"Steal?" Neo arched a brow. "Nah. That idiot cop was just too noisy. I got tired of it and, well… one swing later, problem solved."
Jack's eyes widened, hair practically standing on end. Then he broke into an ecstatic laugh.
"Holy fuck! Neo, you're a legend already!" He slapped his thigh, doubled over laughing. "Anyone else would've just paid the fine or walked away. But you? You chopped the bastard in half! Hah! You're my kind of crazy! An old fashioned though, Swords-type."
Still grinning, he tossed the metal case into the trunk and turned, flicking a set of car keys at Neo.
Neo caught them. "I don't know the route."
"Then I'll drive." Jack thumped his chest proudly. "Don't worry, choom. My driving's rock-solid. You'll see."
…
"Neo, wake up. We're here."
Neo stirred awake to the rumble of the car slowing down. Outside, the night sky had swallowed the desert whole. Ahead, floodlights glowed like artificial stars — the Border Checkpoint.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. Midnight.
Traffic was thin — and even thinner for those leaving Night City territory.
"You've done these runs before, right?" Jack asked, his voice tight. Beneath the grin, he was nervous.
"Relax," Neo said. He wasn't about to mention that corporate hounds would be on them soon. No point freaking the guy out before it happened.
Jack inhaled deeply. "Right. You're the pro. Crossing borders is just another Tuesday for you, huh?"
Neo nodded. "Where's the payment chip?"
"Right here." Jack handed it over — a thin credit shard loaded with eddies.
The car rolled up to the checkpoint, slowing as red holographic signs blinked overhead.
"Please proceed to the inspection area."
A guard in combat armor motioned them forward.
"Driver, remain seated. Full-spectrum scan initiating."
Cameras and drones hummed to life. Red scanning beams swept through the car, searching for weapons, contraband, and cyberware signatures.
Jack's hands tightened on the wheel. "This… doesn't feel good, man."
"Stay calm," Neo said, giving his shoulder a pat. "Nervous people get flagged. Hand me the declaration papers."
Jack fumbled in the glovebox and passed over a file folder.
Neo flipped it open — a black manifest form, stamped LOA.
"Nice," Neo said.
"'LOA'? What's that mean?" Jack asked.
"Lost On Arrival," Neo explained. "Basically, once we're through, everything we're carrying gets 'lost.' No questions asked."
Before Jack could reply, a voice boomed from the speakers:
"Passenger in the front seat, please step out for additional screening."
Neo pushed the door open.
He walked across the floodlit asphalt toward the Border Inspection Building, the heavy security doors sliding open with a hiss.
Inside, the air smelled of ozone and stale coffee. At the registration desk, a bored officer glanced up, eyes scanning Neo from head to toe.
Three swords hung at Neo's waist — Wado Ichimonji and the twin Nameless Blades. But to the man behind the desk, they looked like harmless antiques. Not even worth confiscating.
No sane person brought cold steel into a place ruled by smartguns and drones.
"Sir," the officer said lazily, "please proceed to Interrogation Room Two, on your left."
Neo nodded once.
Then, without breaking stride, he turned right—and walked straight into Room Twelve.