[Maekawa: Suzie from the Mox just got in touch with me. This was an independent move by some newcomers, and she's willing to make amends and offer compensation.]
Leo had barely reached the outskirts of Kabuki District when Maekawa called.
So, Suzie, the leader of the Mox, hadn't even known about the raid on Clouds this time.
Or maybe she'd just turned a blind eye, planning to deal with the fallout depending on how things turned out—until she saw Mackinaw showing up in the streets and panicked.
As a Japanese man, Maekawa was noticeably different from the other gang leaders in the area: the big guy seemed to have started treating Leo like a replacement for Arasaka itself—he picked up the art of servitude real fast.
The Mox scrambling to apologize was all tied to Leo, so Maekawa figured he'd better report it too. If it were any other gang boss, they'd never think to pass something this small up the chain.
Leo thought for a moment. Now that Maiko was dead and Clouds was back under direct Tyger Claw control, his recruitment drive still had to continue.
[Burger King: I need more people to work for me—those who still choose to be sex dolls, I don't care. Whatever's between you and the Mox, keep me out of it.]
[Maekawa: Got it. She might reach out to you again.]
Kabuki District sat between Watson and Japantown, once the pride of a Japanese medical corporation's local operations.
That company had a branch here, which brought with it a flourishing web of suppliers and manufacturers. The whole district thrived.
Until Arasaka returned to Night City soil. That Japanese firm suddenly treated its fellow countrymen even worse than its corporate rivals at Militech—almost overnight, every business that had once kept the area prosperous was on the verge of collapse.
Many fell apart because their senior managers and technicians jumped ship, took "vacations" overseas, went missing—or wound up dead.
The companies folded, the economy crumbled, and poverty flooded in. Night City's natural population growth might be negative, but immigration was off the charts. If you didn't want to work, someone else would. Before long, the district was packed with immigrants and the poor—mostly Chinese, thanks to the timing of Kang Tao's rise.
The chaos turned it into the city's largest black market, marked by a striking circular building in the center. All the shady deals went down in the massive tunnels beneath it.
Once upon a time, both the Maelstrom and Tyger Claws claimed they ran this place, but they were really just wandering around—shooting on sight, bleeding people out for nothing.
Eventually, the low-level patrols wised up: why die for something the boss doesn't care about?
So while both sides still cursed each other out and threw the occasional punch, they quietly avoided real fights.
This uneasy stalemate left a power vacuum—and the Mox crept in, managing to cling to life in the cracks between giants.
But lately, even that small foothold was slipping away.
From a distance, Leo could already see plenty of people chatting like nothing was wrong—but look closer, and it was clear several of them were tense as hell.
And while most gear in this world wasn't networked, almost all of it could still be hacked.
[Wireless intrusion: tuning frequency…]
"Hey bro, where's that new clinic that opened up? I wanna upgrade my neural enhancer. The pirated firmware I've got doesn't mesh right with my optics."
"Hah, you've got guts. You know how many people walked in there and never came out?"
"I know, but the résumé I used to get my job is fake. If this crap malfunctions while I'm working, I'm screwed!"
"Fine, go find this guy…"
"Oh, and bro—where'd all the Maelstrom go? I can't even find a place to buy cracked software lately."
"Hah," the man clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't ask questions when you get there—especially ones like that."
Leo watched the kid leave the stall and slip into an alley outside the market. That was his mark.
Stall #666—one of the recruiters for the Maelstrom.
"Damn, where the hell's Dum Dum?" Joestar, who'd been following, rubbed his head as if trying to jumpstart his comms.
He had Brick's Satara-tech shotgun slung over his back. Originally, he'd been heading home to check on his mom, but when she didn't answer, he decided to swing by and find Dum Dum first—to wrap up some gang business.
Joestar might've been one of the few literate Maelstrom members, but when it came to real tech, the old-timers still held the upper hand.
Problem was, neither his mom nor Dum Dum were answering calls. So here he was, looking in person.
Under his hood, his face was hidden by a holo-mask, his outfit sealed tight. Unless he snapped, nobody would guess he was Maelstrom.
Bang!
"Damn, that's weird," Joestar slapped himself twice. The plating on his jaw actually bent. "Still no signal."
"You said Dum Dum came here before?"
"To clean up the market," Joestar replied. "And to push our new system. But it's harder pitching stuff in the black market than in Watson."
Clean up the market.
Leo stood on an overpass above it all, where the view was great—too great. Anyone watching from up here would be spotted instantly.
Normally, pros used the old buildings beside the market—real vantage points.
But now wasn't the time for subtlety.
Leo's cyber-eyes scanned the scene below, picking up traces:
[Trace: fresh synthetic lubricant, electrolytes, blood detected.]
[Wiped clean. Covered with rag.]
Someone had just been beaten here.
Nearby vendors had even spaced their stalls slightly away from that one—an unheard-of luxury in this cramped, cutthroat place.
They were genuinely afraid.
As Leo glanced down, the man behind the stall suddenly looked up and snarled, "What the fuck are you staring at? Say something or get lost!"
V's temper flared instantly—but Joestar's was faster.
He yanked the shotgun from his back. "You got some balls to talk to me like that—!"
The Satara took one second to fully charge. His modded one took half that—but half a second still felt too long to him.
For Joestar, that half second was worth it for the firepower—but his movements could still use some work.
By the time the first curse left his mouth, his finger was already on the trigger. The Satara built charge fast, overloaded energy sparking off the zipper of his face plating. The barrel glowed bright.
From a distance, someone might've thought he was about to draw a lightsaber from his back.
The stall owner's expression changed instantly the moment Joestar went for the gun.
What the hell—some punk?
No—
He caught sight of the burning red glow behind Joestar's holo-mask and went cold. Sweat poured down his face, his pupils shrank, and his gut turned to ice.
Maelstrom.
He'd just mouthed off to a cyberpsycho.
That half second Joestar needed felt way too short to him—he wished it could last longer, just long enough to watch his whole life flash before his eyes.
But he didn't even realize his cyberware had kicked in automatically, hijacking his frozen body to defend itself.
Joestar grinned. "Kabuki—your market inspector's back!"
Boom!