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Chapter 149 c
🕑 Added 2025-04-06 15:01:00 +0000 UTCChapter 149 c
Leo and Jackie exchanged a few pleasantries with Linari, then she glanced at the rest of the group in the car.
“You guys just finished a gig and need to get back into Watson?”
“Yeah. Think you could let us through?”
“Of course. That’s no big deal.”
She quickly spoke a few words to her colleagues, and the patrol cars blocking the road pulled back to open a lane.
“Thanks. You’re a huge help.”
“Don’t mention it. Have a pleasant night.”
…
They crossed the bridge into Watson without further trouble, riding in silence until the Delamain pulled up to the towering megabuilding where V rented an apartment. The AI driver started to turn into the parking area, but V spoke up:
“Just drop me here. It’s only a short walk.”
V got out and, after hesitating a moment, tossed out an invitation. “You guys want to come up for a bit?”
“We know each other well enough by now.” Jackie grinned. “No need for all that. Go get some rest.”
“Tomorrow, then,” V said.
“Sounds good.”
The Delamain drove Leo, Lucy, and Jackie onward to Misty’s Esoterica. Behind the shop, there was a small inn. Tired of running around, Leo and Lucy decided to stay there for the night. After exchanging goodnights with Jackie, they headed inside.
…
The next morning, Leo woke early. Seeing that Lucy was still asleep, he left her undisturbed. He washed up, stepped out of the inn, and bumped into Jackie coming out of Misty’s place at nearly the same moment. Jackie froze for a second and then grinned.
“I was gonna swing by later to call you. You’re up early, huh?”
“Early bird gets the worm,” Leo replied.
Jackie’s eyes lit up. “So you already know I scored us a real sweet gig, huh?”
Seeing Jackie’s big smile, Leo couldn’t help asking, “What gig? Don’t tell me Padre’s grooming you as his successor?”
“Cut it out. Padre’s still young; he’s got decades left in him.” Jackie shook his head. “I’m talking about a big job I took on a few days back.”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “Dexter DeShawn—ring a bell? He’s the best fixer in Night City! ..... after Rogue of course, anyway the big man at the Afterlife. A big, bald, black Jesus rocking gold implants—super legit.”
Leo frowned. “Dexter? Didn’t he vanish from the scene a couple years ago? If I recall correctly, he got tangled up with some bottom-feeders from Pacifica and got kicked to the curb.”
Having only been in Night City for about six months, Leo didn’t actually know Dexter in person. He’d just heard rumors from bar talk, secondhand stories, and general street gossip.
Jackie nodded.
“There was a major gang shootout two years back. For some reason, Dex got caught in it. When the dust settled, bodies were everywhere. He got out by the skin of his teeth—then disappeared. But now he’s back.”
Leo snorted. “Luck, sure…or maybe he sold out a bunch of other people and ran faster than them. Sounds like a stand-up guy.”
Jackie shrugged. “Hey, business is business, yeah? Who’s squeaky clean in this city? Besides, we’re all about the eddies, man.”
He wasn’t wrong. Even “upright” fixers like Rogue, Regina, Padre, and El Capitán had stains on their records. Nobody survived Night City without dirtying their hands. Jackie radiated excitement, so Leo decided not to rain on his parade.
“So,” Leo said, “Dex is the client for this ‘big gig’? What does he want us to do?”
Jackie shook his head. “He hasn’t said yet.”
Leo raised an eyebrow. “Then how do you know it’s something big?”
“Dude—it’s Dexter DeShawn we’re talking about. This ain’t Wakako or Padre—” Jackie froze mid-sentence, realizing that sounded insulting. “I don’t mean they’re not good, I’m just saying Dex is a top-tier fixer, you know?”
“Not really. Enlighten me.”
Jackie started ticking points off on his fingers. “Look, Wakako’s basically holed up in her pachinko parlor, calls you when she’s got something. Padre and El Capitán are kind of the same. But Dex, he likes to call you over to the Afterlife for face-to-face meets.”
“Meeting in person doesn’t mean much. Anyone can put on a good face. Why’s that special?”
“You’re missing the point. My guess is, if Dex is calling us, it’s gotta be big. We do this job, we might not need to take any more gigs for a while.”
They reached the main street outside Misty’s shop. Jackie jerked his chin at a nearby car.
“See that sedan?”
Leo followed his gaze. “Yeah. So?”
“That’s Dex’s ride. He’s in there right now. Wants to meet you.”
“Right now? He’s that eager?” Leo was surprised. He’d expected something in a day or two, not an immediate sit-down.
“Yep. T-Bug did the introductions. She and Dex go way back. Dex said he’s already met me, now he wants to talk with you.”
Leo still looked skeptical, so Jackie tried to reassure him. “He’s not as shady as you think. Dex is old-school; he doesn’t just cold-call a potential partner—he meets face-to-face. That’s his style. Call it classy.”
Leo’s opinion was less generous: “Sounds more like a lack of trust. But whatever—just a conversation, right? Fine by me.”
Jackie beamed. “Exactly. We’re no small fry anymore. Dex wouldn’t come to us for some half-assed side hustle. This bald Jesus might really have something huge up his sleeve—maybe we finish this one job and retire.”
…........
..
.
Dexter’s vehicle was a Chevillon Thrax, the standard ride for mid-level corporate managers: stylish, commanding respect, and above all, safe. Armored plating shielded every inch of the car, from the reinforced frame to bulletproof windows that could stop large-caliber rounds. The flipside was that with such weight, it accelerated like a snail.
But, as the saying went, better to arrive late than never—especially in one piece.
A hulking bodyguard stood beside the car and reflexively moved to block Leo when he approached. But after verifying who he was, the bodyguard opened the passenger door.
It was Leo’s first time seeing Dexter DeShawn up close. He was a massive, heavyset Black man with a thick beard and tinted sunglasses perched on a wide nose. His hairline receded high on his forehead, and he wore it in thick dreads—ah, Leo thought, so that’s why Jackie likes this guy so much. Must be some kind of genetic kinship.
His right arm—apparently lost or damaged in some incident—had been replaced with a gleaming gold cyberlimb. On his left wrist, he wore not one but two gold watches. Clearly the guy either loved gold or hoarded it like a dragon.
