Chapter 10: Chapter Ten
Chapter 10
(Pepe P.O.V)
There were many places in Night City that Pepe doesn't like stepping foot in: One Zones, Scavs Dens, rooms with some corpse fucker looking down on him with their nose up there in the sky… But that's all issues of personal preferences.
Still, if there was any place amongst all those shitholes that while not as bad as the others, Pepe would still say that he damn hell didn't like: it would be that den dressed up as a bar, the AfterLife.
The home where legends are made—more like where some fucking juju concoction was being brewed and given people's names if their style of flatlining were nova enough.
Hah… Like gonks don't do that every fucking day.
That place somehow reminded Pepe of 'the certain motherfucker' he'd flatline the other day.
It wasn't only that. The Afterlife may seem like some kind of Biz Avenue or what have you. But the former Animal knew of how many gigs he'd come across that required zeroing some of his pack members.
And it ain't just a one-time deal.
It's not like Pepe would play the moral card and say things like some of the Hyenas don't deserve what they've got coming for them.
Algunos lo merecían más que otros.
Pepe knew more than anyone else what it takes to be called an Animal in this city.
Pepe Rodriguez is not a Saint in the slightest—a successful Judas is more like it.
And like he'd said before: he's got too much blood in his hands to ever start changing his ways.
Hopefully, things will be turning around.
… Even though it's too late for me.
Then again, moral standings wouldn't stop Pepe from not liking the place. While it stunk too much of steel, drinks, and irons like his place, the stench of DREAMS also hung around like a nasal attack.
Reminds you of you, eh, BABY THUG.
Tch…
'Espero que te pudras dondequiera que estés, asshole.'
Pepe gritted his teeth.
Nevertheless, his internal musing didn't stop Pepe from lightly nodding at Emmerick Bronson—an Animal from a mercurial pack—who nodded back in return.
Unfortunately, now ain't the time to catch up with his pal.
Not like they were that close in the first place.
Pepe and Emmerick were less of amigos and more of acquaintances from years ago, but the stark differences from packs (the Hyenas reps) ensured that they weren't spending any free time catching around.
But that didn't mean they were entirely cut off from each other.
What they had going on was something like some kind of biz deal.
Whenever Pepe needed a favor—searching for someone or confirming rumors on the street—and it needed a fixer touch, then Emmerick was the one he would go to for confirmation.
Same if Emmerick needed a favor—like additional bodies for a discount price—the Hyenas or rather, Pepe was the one who he would go to.
Una relación de toma y daca para ser más aptos.
The Hyena was aware that the Queen of the Afterlife knew of the deal between him and Emmerick—that freak of a woman knew everything in this city—but seeing as she hadn't made a move to do anything about it meant there was no cause for alarm.
Anyways, with that…
[Pepe: sure the bastard's around here]
[Emmerick: yeah, around the third block]
[Emmerick: waiting for someone, probably]
Pepe smirked.
[Pepe: unfortunately, he's gonna have to put his appointment on hold]
[Emmerick: hmm… well, that ain't my probs]
[Pepe: heh, anyway, thanks, choomba]
[Emmerick: eh, remember to bring me THAT stuff when you come next time]
[Pepe: hahahahaha, I will]
Closing the call hub, Pepe trudged right into a large room humming in a jazz beat. It wasn't the kind of music one would expect from a legendary Rockerboy like Rouges.
But eh… What does someone like him know about music, anyway?
Besides, Pepe's got better things to worry about—like the numerous eyes currently staring at him in laser focus.
The former Hyena's brow twitched in annoyance.
'So it's finally happening.'
It goes without saying that from the looks of things, it seems like what happened yesterday was finally going town. Then again, it's only the contents of what truly happened that matters which makes things fall to Upè to take control of the narrative for a while.
"Hey, beautiful! Look amazing as always" Pepe catcalled at the bartender. "How's life treating you?"
"Hey, Pepe. As you can see…" The bartender raised a glass cup she had been cleaning. "I've got plenty of bottles and stories to keep me company."
"Well, when you're finally bored of all that. Drop by my joint and I'll take you for a ride."
The bartender laughed. "I'll think about it, big log."
"Nova way of breaking this man's fragile heart, lady."
Pepe drawled without breaking stride.
"But it's good to know I'm in your consideration."
It took only a moment later before Pepe realized what he had just done and froze in resigned astonishment.
'Ugh, shit. I freaking did it again.'
That girl almost made him drop his mad-dog persona yet again.
If there was anyone, Pepe feels he could let down his guard around—like that ain't a scary thought on its own—it would be Claire Russell.
To this day, Pepe couldn't fucking explain why that was so: was it her looks or simply her demeanor? Rooting out the cause seems like a lost cause for Pepe—and it's not like he doesn't like it.
There was something about her that made him want to relax and forget everything.
"Esta chica es fuego para mi ser."
Thankfully, Pepe only drops by once in a blue moon.
Or else…
'Enough with the daydreaming.' Pepe chided himself and moved on.
Sure enough, the sound of jazz was muted as Pepe approached his destination. Around this point was where specially partitioned rooms were positioned away from the open area.
It was here biz that required utmost secrecy to hand out the detes were conducted.
This particular place was different from the open area in the sense that even though the Afterlife only allows those with suitable reps could get in, not just anyone can come around here to use a room.
Only the cream la crop Fixers, Merc crews, and Solos were anonymously allowed to do so.
Pepe already noticed some of the rooms were already used by people who were going about their thing/biz.
'Ah, great.' The former Hyena grunted in exasperation.
It would have been quite a pain in the ass to start checking into the rooms one by one—a surefire way to get into an iron fight—thankfully, Pepe already knows which room the man he is looking for would be.
Pepe soon stood before another Merc who spent merely a moment before nodding and shifting for him to enter.
"Hey, it's Pepe. I'm coming in, Dex…"
Yeah, anyone could tell that sounded curt, but this wasn't someone one should meet with a subservient attitude if you can hold a position of power.
Because the man would take such a poor gonk for a ride.
And not the fun one.
"Well, well, well. Would you look who it is?" The man in question said.
Sited beside a woman who seemed to be a Netrunner with two fierce-looking gunners behind him was the man commonly referred to as Black Jesus of the Afterlife.
"Dexter DeShawn," Pepe said with a cool smile. "Love to say it's good to see you, but we aren't exactly chooms enough for that, are we?"
"True, true," Dex admitted.
"With me running my own 'little' biz and you moving up the World… And taking over three Packs of the Animals. Talk about an achievement, man! It's just, I can't help but wonder how the Sasquatch feels about all that."
Pepe's eyes minutely widened.
'So that's how Upé's gonna play it.'
Nothing ever remains a secret in Night City. It could come in the form of rumors, gossip, reports, telltales… But in any way or form, the secret would have to be revealed.
But that doesn't mean the contents cannot be manipulated.
The fact that even someone like Dexter DeShawn thinks that Pepe is the one running the show shows how malleable adulterated detes can be.
It won't last for long though—but it would have to last long enough.
Although…
'I'm so not looking forward to Upé's smug mug, later on.'
With that dreary thought, Pepe fixated a scowl on his face, went to the cushion opposite the Fixer, and sat down.
"Seems someone's fast on the news."
"Please, I'm a fucking Fixer." Dex scoffed as he lit up a cigar. "Hearing things around the street is my bread and butter."
"Well, I can respect that," Pepe admitted. "But you sure you're up to antagonizing someone who's moved up the World? It doesn't seem like a smart move on your part."
"Say that when you've taken over the rest of the Animals?"
"But I already did, Dex." Pepe gave a dark grin.
"I've got the biggest underground fight and old bloods from the Leopards in my pockets right now. So I'll ask one last time, Poindexter: sure you're up to badgering me?"
Even without looking, Pepe recognized the sounds of irons being raised behind the Fixer: no surprise there, when their bossman is currently being threatened.
Coming into the Afterlife without any of his boys—Warriors of the Helios Wrath—was a bet Pepe was willing to take.
No one zeroes in the Afterlife: a rule made clear and enforced by the Queen of Fixers, herself, and then again, it's not like Pepe is TRULY alone.
Only that he didn't take anyone with him INTO the bar.
The staring match lasted for a few moments before Dexter broke it with a laugh.
"Alright, I gotta admit: you're one crazy motherfucker." The Fixer readily admitted. "So how about we stop with the dick measuring and let's talk biz: what do you want around my little joint, Pepe?"
"Oh, nothing much."
Pepe retrieved a shard and placed it on the table.
"I just need you to look into something for me."
Dexter picked up the shard and eyed it before turning his gaze back at Pepe.
"Is this about the MILTECH gig?"
'Seems like he does know something about it.' Pepe thought and outwardly replied, "Yeah, something smells foul about it and I want you to double-check, no, triple-check for me."
"Hmm… Seems like you've got something going for that head of yours than your machinegun predecessor." Dexter DeShawn's eyes gleamed behind his glass. "Alright, I can certify it. But it's gonna cost you."
Pepe relaxed his body and steepled his fingers.
"Now Dex, let's talk biz."
"Huh?" Something on Pepe's face seemed to have unnerved Dexter as the man uncomfortably shifted back. "It seems I'll have to go get my optics checked... Since when did your eyes glow golden?"
ᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥ
(Angelica Whelan P.O.V)
Life has taught Angie many lessons and cultivated innate qualities within her needed to survive and thrive in Night City.
Qualities like charisma: in the sense of being able to say what needs to be said who it needs to be said the way it needs to be said. Lessons like: brains work better for her than brawns. And most importantly: a sense of knowing where her lane is and to stay on it.
For as much as the Animals may seem like a bunch of combat gangoons, the gang has a rather complicated hierarchy system that goes beyond the labeling of the Alpha and their Pack.
Angie's Pack—for whom she is their Alpha—focuses on eddie production by the means of entertainment: underground fightclubs.
From arranging matches to fixing fights and wheeling in the scratch.
Angie did all that while making sure to keep the ones above her satisfied and the ones below her happy.
Anyway, speaking on the ones above…
Even Angie's stomping grounds at Dogtown—a place cut off from the NC proper—didn't give her the balls to disobey the ones above her: and by 'the ones above', she specifically meant the man behind the underground fight clubs in Night City.
Upé 'the Ape' McKenzie—well, everyone calls him Upé.
When a Man of that pedigree says come: you better fucking come. Jump: you ask how high and do it with a smile. Flatline: empty your lead on the poor fucker with as much enthusiasm as possible.
Upé was the hidden appeal behind the Animals and one of the reasons why people rush in to join the gang—it's all for a chance of him noticing and promoting them to big-name fight companies.
It was a chance for them to move up the World.
In a way, Upé was more like the Sasquatch—if she were more biz oriented.
Not like she'll ever say that out loud.
Today, Angie and the other Alphas in the fight biz had been summoned by Upé, himself.
The intentions were explicitly clear that failure to attend meant risking getting on Upé's bad side, and for Angie: that was a fucking no-no.
******************
The female Alpha fixed her cap as she stood by the entrance of the structure with her boys (bodyguards) right behind her.
Angie wasn't that comfortable being outside her turf, but even that wouldn't stand as an excuse to the Main Man when he's calling.
"Fucking hell, I hope word of him calling out for blood on those chrome junkies was just some fucking rumor."
Angie normally wouldn't consider any news that came straight from the streets. However, due to lack of time, she had to make do with what she heard…
Word was out that: some Maelstrom gonks had done something to piss off the Ape and now, he is out to utterly destroy them.
Angie knew something in the story didn't make sense. It sounded like bullshit. Unfortunately, it is the only bullshit she had on hand, so she won't be ignoring it until she's sure that the bullshit is either true or false.
In any case, as an Alpha -and one under Upé's chain of command- Angie is honor-bound to follow Upé to war if he so announces it.
Then again, considering the scope of her operations, doing so would cost her quite a bit—or more like a pound of her flesh.
'Ugh, it's not like standing here and fiddling with my cap is gonna bring out the answers.'
With a sigh, Angie waltzed right into the edifice that seemed to loom over her.
Hopefully, the summons were for a more lucrative agenda.
***************
Yep~
Angelica couldn't have been more wrong.
Bam…! Bam…! Bam…!
"You…! Thought…! I…! Wouldn't…! Fucking…! Know…!"
Angie silently watched as Upé executed another Pack Alpha in a death match with only one thought running through her head.
'What in the ever-loving fuck is going on?!'
The Alpha would have preferred the announcement of an attack against the Maelstroms over the cluster-fuck scenery going on before her.
It was a cage match Upé had organized against some of the Alphas that came.
Or more like an execution stage.
The main man had offered a very tempting deal to the one who could defeat him—the keys to his kingdom—so it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that not so few gonks had jumped in and taken the bait.
And gonks they were.
'It's like everyone's forgotten that he's one of the few people who can give the Sasquatch a run for her eddie.'
So it didn't come as a surprise to Angie that the cage down there was currently being painted red with the blood of all the gonk fighters—of course, except for Upé's.
The seven Alphas weren't enough against THE lone Ape.
Shaking her head, Angie focused on the closing fight with morbid fascination as the Alpha of the Badgers threw himself at Upé with a roar and an arm raised for a clothesline only for the Ape to deftly tilt his body at speeds just short of a low-level Sandie and respond with a powerful uppercut.
Bam…!
"Ouch."
Angie clicked her tongue as the Badger's jaws flew off his face along with the Ape's fist.
'Well, there ain't any fucking need to count for that one.'
Brutality of the Ape.
Upé, with bloodstains all over, cracked his fingers and glared at the Alphas and the other Animals above with a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes.
"So anyone next feels like they're up to the challenge?" Upé questioned—which sounded more like a threat.
"… No one… Good. The Badgers. The Rhinos. The Baboons. The Jaguars. The Vultures… They're to be added to the Pack of the Apes."
Angie's eyes minutely narrowed.
'Hmm…'
It wasn't that she was surprised at the absorption of the defeated Alpha Packs—it was a done deal as soon as they had been defeated—it was that Upé had merely mentioned five Packs instead of seven.
Luckily, Angie's befuddlement was inadvertently answered by Upé, who wordlessly gestured at his Pack's members to pick up the two Alphas in question who seemed to be in a world of pain for treatment.
It seems Upé isn't gonna be absorbing those.
Angie cupped her chin.
'Okay, what's the play here…?'
From the looks of things, it seems Upé is doing some spring cleaning.
While Angie couldn't fathom the exact reason why the main man was cleaning his lawn, she ventures that either he is about to start something and he wants it covert OR it's related to the Maelstrom fiasco.
Nah~ the Alpha couldn't see herself betting on the latter.
The hand covering Angie's lips was able to veil her lips as it spread into a full-blown grin.
'I'm smelling something lucrative and green~'
"Alright, everyone listen up!" Upé hollered. "There's gonna be changes around here. Big changes. You can be assured that those changes will bring us more eddies and something more than that. This Alpha fucking guarantees it."
The structure trembled at the Animals' anticipated bellow.
Upé waited for the clamor to settle down before he continued.
"So for now, we'll be sitch with your Alphas to hash out the dates…"
Sighing, Angie muted the rest of the speech, detached herself from the wall, and with a measured gait, ambled towards Upé's office.
Upé's current speech wasn't meant for the Alphas—it's mostly to pacify the Animals present—it's the sitch that's about to happen where she'll be focusing on.
Something serious is about to happen. The fact that Upé made such a drastic move means, he's gonna be banking much on it.
And if there's one thing Angie knew about the main man is that he doesn't make a move he isn't sure to win from.
'Things sure are about to get mighty interesting.'
Although…
Pausing, Angie turned back to look at Upé as her body instinctively shivered uncomfortably.
"Since when did he have golden eyes?"
ᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥᴥ
(Bastet P.O.V)
It takes either a brave person or a gonk to go and buy instruments of death close to the people it's gonna be used on.
(Un)fortunately, Bastet never cared about such small detes as she would go anywhere so long as such a place suited her purpose.
This was why the merc Alpha didn't think twice when she realized the place she had to go for proper equipment was at the Kabuki Roundabout in Watson: soon to be hell-zone between the Helios Wrath and the fucking Scavengers.
Genba Nakamura's Gun-O-Rama…
Bastet had gone to the weapon's store from time to time for some preem arms and she's got to admit: for someone who was one part of those Tyger Claws smarty-pants, the owner's got the heart of an Animal.
"Sure this is what you want?"
Genba repeated after rechecking the order.
"Don't make me repeat myself, Genba," Bastet grunted. "I've already given you the list of what I want and it's not like I'm looking for much anyway."
The vendor raised a brow before shifting his focus to the info sent to his neural-ware.
"… I can see why you aren't willing to say these words out loud. But you don't have to worry about the walls having ears in my store."
Genba relaxed his arms on the counter with a dark smile on his face.
"I got myself some state-of-art ICE for situations like this… At any rate, I can provide the 29 pieces of Tsunami Kyubi each with installed scopes and muzzles, and also an extra-large DB-4 Igla. I do have some custom Hammers but I'm not sure I have the size you want. As for clothing…?"
The vendor trailed off as he looked at Bastet for an explanation she wouldn't give: not because she isn't able to, but because she doesn't want to.
'It's not like I can just say I wanna buy clothes for some HOT guy I met yesterday. It'll make me seem like a fucking sugar mommy and I don't wanna spread ideas that I-I l-li-lik… Ah! Fuck this shit!'
… Who are you even explaining this to?
'Hah…'
Bastet wasn't going to say THAT word even at the point of death.
Instead, she'll just say…
"Kevlar…" Bastet explained (lied), "I wanna add a little bit of protection to the batch. Round everything up and shit."
"Right~," Genba said disbelievingly. "Which is why you came to a WEAPON VENDOR instead of a CLOTHING VENDOR."
Bastet clicked her tongue.
"It's why I'm asking, leadhead. You got it or not?"
"Not," Genba replied. "But if you want, I can direct you to someone who does. They've got some pretty nova clothing if you ask me. And with my referral, I can guarantee a preem discount."
"I'll take you on your offer later. For now, we've got a different beast to deal with."
"Right… The haggling." Genba said rubbing his hands with glee, "You do know this is gonna cost you quite the eddie, right?"
"Uhuh." Bastet rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "I wouldn't be ordering this if I didn't have the jack. Just go get my things ready and I'll send you the payment when you're done."
With her current objective completed the Alpha turned to leave.
"Well, you can come back in the evening for collection if you ain't willing to wait," Genba called out with a sigh. "Hah… You gotta pardon me for asking but what's the Animals about to do with this much toys?"
Pausing, Bastet turned to the Weapon Vendor with a chilling smile.
"I could tell you. But I'll have to zero you when I do." Bastet drew a line across her throat with a chuckle. "It's nothing personal. But what I'm about to do is covert on that level."
"… …!"
Bastet must have been sporting something quite fierce due to the way Genba flinched at her threat.
"Chill. I'm simply curious. Not suicidal." Genba shakenly chuckled. "Sheesh, it's not like those golden eyes of yours aren't scary enough on their own."
"Hmm?" Bastet raised a brow, "What'd you say now?"
Weekly Power Status
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-- Power
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