“I’m trying to decide between the Chevillon Emperor or the Militech Hellhound,” Diego said, his voice barely cutting through the pounding bass at Lizzie’s. “My Mackinaw’s good, you know? Solid as a rock. But I’m looking for something with a little more bite.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to picture him driving anything other than his Thornton Mackinaw. That truck was practically a tank – massive, indestructible, and about as subtle as a sledgehammer. The perfect mirror to Diego himself. But this was Night City afterall, and even tanks needed an upgrade eventually.

We were hanging at Lizzie’s, lounging in one of the booths that lined the dance floor. The lights pulsed in time with the music, casting everything in a wash of electric pinks and blues. I was slouched back, nursing a drink that was more ice than liquor, while Diego rattled on about cars.

“So, why those two?” I asked, more to keep the conversation going than out of any curiosity.

Diego leaned back in the booth, a grin spread across his face. “The Emperor’s sleek. Real smooth. A street car that screams class. But the Hellhound? That’s a 6-wheel-drive beast, armored to the teeth. It’s mine resistant. That’s a big selling point for people. Built like a damn fortress.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “How many mines you expect to run over in Night City? Or are you just really a big fan of that whole neomilitaristic chic look?”

Diego shrugged, unbothered by my teasing him. “It’s what I used back when I was a corpo soldier. The Hellhound saved my ass more times than I can count. Plus, I’ve set aside most of my eddies for my daughter. Made sure she’s set. But I’ve still got enough left over to upgrade my truck, and after everything we’ve been through, I think I deserve it.”

He wasn’t wrong. After shelling out a small fortune on fake IDs, paying off Sandra’s netrunners, and lining the pockets of our new homeless recruits who were keeping the voting districts secure, we still had more eddies than we knew what to do with. The prison riot and all the bounties we’d collected had paid off big time, leaving us with plenty to splurge on.

“Why not?” I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink. “We got the cash. Even Cyndi got herself those Lynx Paws.”

Diego chuckled, nodding. “Yea, she’s been scaring the hell out of everyone, popping up out of nowhere. Think you’re alone, and bam, there she is, been standing there for five minutes without you knowing.”

I flagged down a server and ordered another round of drinks. When they arrived, I took a sip and sighed, sinking further into the booth. It was election day, and for the first time in a long while, I found myself in an unfamiliar position: I was utterly bored out of my mind.

Shortly after the lights flickered back to life in Night City, I’d pulled the crew together and laid out our plan for election day. After that, my part was done. I’d set everything in motion, and now just needed to sit back and watch it all unfold. It was strange, being along for the ride while everyone else worked.

Albert and John were the brains behind all our organization. They were taking my rough, half-formed ideas and turning them into something that actually worked. They knew exactly how many people we needed at the voting booths, how much security we could call in, and how many votes it would take to tip the scales in our favor. While I was still figuring out the next move, they were already five steps ahead, putting our people where they needed to be.

Then there was Deng, Fred, and Mor. Those three had the kind of connections with the homeless of Night City that we needed. When the blackout hit, word spread fast that we were recruiting homeless to protect the voting districts. More and more of them started reaching out, looking for shelter, safety, and maybe even a little bit of belonging. Fred counted them up, Deng got them armed and put them in patrols, and Mor was their point of contact with the rest of our crew.

Anna, on the other hand, was working her cop connections, feeding them a bit of intel I’d picked up from Rogue: the NCPD was about to lay off thousands of officers. Anna was floating the idea that some of them might want to jump ship and come work for The Pack. But, despite what Rogue or anyone else might think, I wasn’t convinced we were a fully organized group yet. We weren’t like the Tyger Claws or 6th Street. We were more a loose collection of people all pulling off a few jobs here and there. That wasn’t a whole lot to offer these soon-to-be unemployed badges, and I doubted we’d get a lot of takers.

Meanwhile, I had nothing to do. Everyone else was knee-deep in their work, filling their roles like cogs in a well-oiled machine, and I was just…there. Sitting in the middle of it all, watching the gears turn. Albert was off grabbing IDs from Indrajit and handing them out to our growing army of homeless recruits. John was in constant contact with the Valentinos, making sure they knew to turn a blind eye to those IDs and let our people in to vote for our chosen candidate. Some of our homeless were already on their third or fourth vote for the day. Deng was visiting the small gangs we’d bullied into helping us, making sure they were ready to “protect” our polling sites. Fred and Mor were getting everyone organized, planning out shifts so we had a steady stream of votes. And me? I was drinking in the middle of the day.

Hell, even Zion was…strolling towards the booth Diego and I were sitting at. I saw a look of consternation etched across his face and tapped Diego on the shoulder, pointing to Zion.

“We got a problem,” he said, not even bothering with a greeting.

Finally, something to do.

&&&&&&

Zion drove me out to Arroyo with Diego following behind, and we parked a short distance from megabuilding H4. It was the place where I’d conned the small gang running things to work for us, but as we pulled up, a flicker of unease hit me. I wondered if they were starting to push back against the directions I’d given them. Zion led us to a discreet spot just outside the building and pointed to a car parked nearby. It was set just outside the building, a small bit of space between the passenger door and the building itself.

“Animals,” he said, gesturing towards the vehicle.

I looked over at the car, trying to get a look inside, and instantly recognized the passengers. Heavy, imposing figures of menace and muscle.

Zion was helping with security at our polling sites, and Albert and John had flagged that Animals were showing up at different locations around the city. They hadn’t made any moves yet, but Albert suspected they were there to intimidate voters.

“I’m supposed to be the one scaring people into voting the way we want,” I muttered, only half-joking.

Zion smirked but didn’t argue. “I’m not sure who the girl in the car is, but she’s got Animal bodyguards. They seem to be following her lead. I think she’s working with one of the campaigns.”

Most Animals in Night City were easy to spot – massive, muscle-bound brutes who looked like they lived off a steady diet of steroids and rage. But the girl in the car didn’t fit that mold. She was a spray-tanned, pink-haired, crop-top-wearing princess; the kind you’d expect to find lounging on a yacht or mingling at a corpo party, not riding in a car full of muscle mountains.

“That’s Angelica Whelan,” I said, recognizing her from the Phantom Liberty DLC of the game. She’d only been in one mission, but she left a mark.

“Who?” Zion asked.

“She’s high up in the Animal hierarchy. They probably have some alpha title or something for her that’s equally ridiculous. But yea, she’s in charge of her own little crew of them.”

“She doesn’t look like your typical Animal,” said Zion with a hint of skepticism. “Are you sure it’s her?”

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the car. “She might not look like the rest of them, but she’s clawed her way to the top of their ranks. Don’t underestimate her. She’s the brains behind their brawn. Just because she doesn’t look like a roided-up junkie doesn’t mean she’s not dangerous.”

“People don’t see her coming, huh?” said Diego.

“Exactly,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “This doesn’t make sense. What do you guys know of the Animals? How do they make their money?”

Diego leaned back against a wall, crossing his arms. “Mostly selling their special brand of workout drugs. They also pull security for some big names. They got some underground fighting rings. They’re not that big of a gang in the grand scheme of things. Mostly just act as muscle for others.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Zion. “Do we pay them a visit, or just let her know we’re onto her. Deng’s got a few groups keeping tabs on all the Animals at the other sites. If you want, we could hit them all at the same time. But that’s as good as declaring war.”

“Yea,” I drew out the word, still watching the car. “I don’t know if that’s the right play. We might…” I turned to Diego, a smirk creeping onto my face. “You still thinking about upgrading your truck?”

&&&

My boredom wasn’t there anymore as I stared at the car Angelica and her three Animal bodyguards were crammed into. It was a Villefort Alvarado – a decently expensive car that drove more like a boat than a car. I remembered it from the boxing side gigs in the game where V could win won off a Valentino. I’d taken it just to collect a unique ride, but I never actually liked driving the thing. Every time I tried, I’d end up mowing down pedestrians whenever I made a turn.

But Angelica’s version was no ordinary Alvarado. This one was a tank on wheels – fully armored with bulletproof windows and reinforced doors. Just looking at it, I figured it could probably take a rocket and keep rolling. It was a fortress. But it was also still just a car.

Diego, Zion, and I had been watching it for over an hour, keeping an eye on Angelica and her crew. The Animals inside hadn’t made any moves yet, and I doubted they would until later in the day. It was clear they weren’t there to intimidate voters. Their real play, I guessed, was to grab the boxes that held all the votes at the end of the day and swap them out for votes that were for whatever candidate they were working for.

That’s when it hit me – how idiotic I’d been. We could’ve done the same thing; just snatch up the boxes and save a fortune on all the fake IDs we’d bought from Indrajit. All the planning, the resources, the money spent, and here we were, outmaneuvered by the dumbest gang in Night City. It made me wonder if I was just overcomplicating things or if I was caught up in trying to make all my gigs unique and intricate.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind as I kept an eye on Angelica. But the moment I did, Zion’s words about the Animals inched their way into my thoughts. If we fought them today – wiping out all the Animals hanging around the polling sites – it would definitely make getting our people elected a lot easier. No intimidation, no interference. We’d have a clear path to victory. But then we’d have to deal with the fallout.

Starting a war with the Animals wasn’t just about today; it would bleed into tomorrow and the day after. They’d have to hit back, and then we’d have to retaliate, and the cycle would keep spinning until both sides were battered and broken. There’d be blood in the streets and chaos spilling out into Night City, and The Pack would be dead before it even got on its feet. Not only that, but if we started some shit shortly after the city just got done dealing with the blackout, there was no telling what the average Night City citizen would do. Would they just get fed up with the whole thing and come down on both of us in a righteous fury?

That wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t going to burn everything down just to win three seats on the Night City council.

That’s why I wanted to try negotiation. It wasn’t as flashy and it didn’t satisfy that itch of putting people in their place and keeping them off my territory, but it was worth a shot. Angelica wasn’t the muscle of the Animals; she had a brain. If I could get her to see reason, maybe we could avoid all the bloodshed. And, possibly, profit off this whole thing.

Anna: okay. They’re leaving. You got 20 minutes.

I’d sent Anna around the building, letting her work her charm on all the badges. All she had to do was drop a hint that things were about to get messy and suggest they take an early lunch break. It didn’t take much convincing – after all, she’d been chatting with a bunch of cops, spreading the word that the NCPD was about to lay off a whole lot of officers, and they needed to start looking for a new gang. We were a group that was potentially hiring, so they were more than eager to stay on our good side.

With the cops cleared out, I pushed myself up off the wall I’d been leaning on and made my way towards Angelica’s car, casually fingering the road flare I’d tucked into my jacket pocket. As I approached, I could feel Angelica’s eyes lock onto me.

She was seated in the front passenger seat, her gazes tracking me as I walked up to the window. I stopped just close enough to catch the sneer curling at the corner of her lips and I bent down so I was level with the window.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re going to have to leave,” I said, my tone polite but with enough steel to make it clear I wasn’t asking.

“You can fuck off right now, asshole. This doesn’t concern you.”

I raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Funny thing is, the folks in this building gave me a call. Said a bunch of Animals were hanging around, possibly getting ready to start intimidating voters. I’m a big fan of democracy, so I figured I’ll ask you to nicely leave. In exchange, maybe we can work together on something a little bit later.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, and I saw one of the Animals in the backseat shift, already halfway out the door. But Angelica snapped out a command, and he froze, muscles tense but obedient. Her gaze locked back onto mine, cold and unyielding.

“Listen, kid,” she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. “This doesn’t concern you. Now, be a good little hopper and walk away before I let my man back there twist your head off.”

“Okay,” I sighed as I stepped away from the passenger side window and moved to stand directly in front of the car, about five feet away.

Noah: try not to hit me when you come through.

Diego: no promises.

I stood there for a moment longer. The Animal in the back seat started getting furious, his eyes almost bulging out of his head in anger. Angelica looked at me like I was an incomprehensible moron, and the Animal in the driver’s seat decided the best thing to do was lay on the horn to annoy me away. The Animal in the back reached for the door handle again, and this time, Angelica didn’t stop him. But before he could swing the door open, the sound of an engine roared.

Diego’s truck sped from where he’d been sitting, crashing into the side of Angelica’s car with brute force. The impact sent the entire car rocking violently, tossing the Animals inside like rag dolls. I saw Angelica’s head snap to the side, slamming against the window with a sickening thud that echoed in my ears. The driver’s side door crumpled inward, pinning the poor bastard behind the wheel.

But Diego wasn’t finished. He revved the Mackinaw’s engine, the beast growling with raw power, and began shoving Angelica’s car closer towards the building. The tires screeched in protest, and the metal groaned as the two vehicles ground against each other. Diego didn’t ease off the gas until he had Angelica’s car pinned against the wall, the front end of his truck battered but still standing strong.

As soon as Angelica’s car was pinned, Cyndi and Zion leaped out of the back of the Mackinaw, each clutching a can of chooh2. Zion started dousing the front and sides of the car while Cyndi jumped onto the roof and poured her chooh2 over everything. The sharp, acrid smell of the fuel filled the air, mixing with the scent of burnt rubber.

Diego climbed out of his truck and looked at the damage he caused. The front of his truck was clearly damaged but still functional. He ignored it and walked up to Angelica’s car, not even flinching at the sight of the wreck he’d just caused. He just pressed the barrel of his Crusher shotgun against the front windshield, aiming it squarely at Angelica.

I locked eyes with Angelica, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in her gaze, buried beneath the layers of anger and defiance. She was trapped, both literally and figuratively, in a situation that had spiraled far out of her control.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the road flare I’d grabbed from Diego’s truck earlier. Her eyes followed the movement, widening slightly as I held it up. She knew exactly what that flare could do with all that chooh2 soaking her car. Her ride might’ve been bulletproofed, but it wouldn’t stand a chance against the flames.

I uncapped the flare, its bright light illuminating everything around. But before I could speak and make my threats, one of the idiots in the back seat, still dazed from the crash, decided it was a good idea to panic. He whipped out a Unity and fired off two shots, the sound no doubt deafening inside the cramped confines of the car.

The bullets didn’t do much except crack the already spider-webbed windshield a bit more. I could see Angelica flinch, her face twisting in pain as the gunshots echoed in her ears, leaving her temporarily disoriented. The other Animal in the back seat was clearly pissed, shouting at the shooter for his stupidity. What did the guy think bullet proof meant?

I clenched my jaw, frustration bubbling up inside me. I needed to get my message across to Angelica – that she and all her Animals needed to clear out of my territory – but with her ears ringing and her focus shattered, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I need a pen or something,” I called out. Zion shot me a puzzled look. “Something to write with.”

Zion quickly darted back to Diego’s Mackinaw and rifled through the glove box. A moment later, he returned, handing me a crumpled sheet of paper torn from the owner’s manual and a half-chewed pen. It wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, but it would do the job.

I passed the flare to Zion and scribbled my number on the paper, making sure it was big and clear. When I was done, I walked over to the closest spot on the cracked windshield where Angelica could see and slapped the paper against the glass. Her eyes darted between the numbers and my face, confusion briefly replacing the anger. Then my Agent buzzed.

Angelica: what the fuck, choom?

Noah: I tried telling you to leave, and you rudely brushed me off. So, let’s talk about why your boys are all over my polling sites.

Angelica: you think you can muscle the Animals out of this? We took on a job, and we’re not walking away just because the newest gang in Night City thinks they’re hot shit. You should think this through. You’ve got time to walk away before this turns into a war.

Noah: hmm, you know who we are?

Angelica: I do my homework. You’ve been making waves since the blackout, so I know you think you’re good. But you don’t have the muscle to take us on.

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Even with her car smashed against the wall, doused in fuel, and a flare in play, she was still trying to negotiate. I sent her a list of locations where her Animals were stationed, as well as a few pictures of them chilling in cars, waiting to snatch the voting boxes.

Noah: I got plenty of muscle. A lot of people wanna do me favors lately. Or haven’t you noticed the badges aren’t here to stop me from turning you into a bonfire?

I watched as she glanced around, realizing for the first time that the front of the megabuilding was eerily quiet, with no cops in sight. In Night City, people learned early on to mind their own business, so the only people passing by refused to look at us. The only people who got involved in other people’s business were badges and suicidal idiots. And there weren’t any badges around.

Angelica: we’re not just random muscle. We got a rep to protect. Walking away from a job makes us look weak. Our client doesn’t care about your territory or who gets hurt; they just want the job done.

Noah: I get it. You’ve got a business to run, and leaving at the first sign of trouble makes you look bad. But is this job really worth it? There’s a lot of eddies moving around these days, and more than one way to earn it. We might be new, but we’re not looking to burn every bridge in the city.

She studied me for a moment, trying to weigh her options, before finally texting back.

Angelica: what’re you suggesting?

Noah: This isn’t the fight you want. Not today. Walk away, and we can find you something better down the line. If you’re looking to make some real eddies, I’ve got some ideas and I could use the muscle.

She didn’t respond immediately, just stared at me through the windshield, now glistening with chooh2. Angelica wasn’t stupid; she knew whatever job she was working wasn’t worth getting torched in her car outside a megabuilding or igniting a war between the Animals and my people. But she still had her street cred to think about, and backing down wasn’t exactly a good look.

Angelica: you think you can just waltz up here and offer us a better deal?

Noah: I more strolled up here. Then my people plowed in you. There wasn’t much waltzing. But this is about the bigger picture. Sure, you’ve got muscle, but I’ve got vision. Work with my people, and you’ll get a piece of that vision. How much do you think we earned during the blackout? And then think about what your current client is paying you. You work with us, you get eddies. You work with your client…well, plastic melts at 135 Celsius, and I’m pretty sure we can get your car to that.

Angelica: I’m all natural, you piece of shit.

Noah: so…we got a deal? If we do, I want your people out of my polling sites. I sent you the list. Pull them out, and I’ll call you in a few days; once your ears stop ringing from some idiot shooting inside a parked car.

Angelica shot me a glare, her eyes narrowing before they flashed gold for a brief moment. Two minutes later, with the flare still burning in my hand, I got a message from Deng, confirming that all the Animals at the polling sites were clearing out.

Satisfied, I tossed the flare far from Angelica’s car and signaled Diego and the crew to wrap it up. Cyndi and Zion climbed into the back of Diego’s Mackinaw, and as they pulled away, I couldn’t help but notice some liquid leaking from his engine. I’d have to toss a few eddies Diego’s way and help him upgrade his ride.

I gave Angelica a nod before slipping into the megabuilding, ready to find the gang leader in charge and make sure everything inside was running smoothly.