Jackie Welles had a rough family life.
As a kid, he and his mother were often beaten with a belt by his father. But Jackie was like that—he never backed down.
He fought back hard against that bastard, put him in the hospital for a few days. After that, it was just him and Mama.
At fifteen, Jackie slipped a Valentino ring onto his finger. Young Jackie always dreamed of making it big—until Maelstrom bullets kissed the area right around his heart.
He learned then: no matter how big you got, nothing mattered more than giving Mama peace of mind.
He started hitting the gym obsessively, building himself up. Put on boxing gloves. At the Night City Devil Boxing Club, he went toe-to-toe with a guy named Viktor.
Beat the hell out of each other. Had a blast doing it.
"Whoever beats you up, you become friends with."
So Viktor and Jackie clasped hands, bumped chests, and that was that. Men's friendships were simple like that.
That was the first time Jackie felt like effort actually paid off. Including friendship.
He loved riding motorcycles. Even planned to try out for the Guns & Horses show. His Nazaré was his baby—2075 model, brand new. Matched his whole "making my way up" vibe perfectly.
Jackie had known a certain girl since they were kids. Not like Camila or Misty, though.
This one came from money. Born to work the corporate game.
Ambitious. Gutsy. Didn't know the meaning of "quit." Honestly, they got along pretty well.
"Damn it... Jackie, this ass-wiping bullshit landed on Counter-Intelligence again."
V was complaining on the other end of the call.
"My mama always says—be patient. It'll pay off eventually. And the payoff's gonna be worth it."
Jackie often comforted V like this.
"But this job seems to be wearing you down." Jackie didn't like watching his friend grow haggard. He could only stand by as the bright, cheerful V slowly shifted toward something more melancholy. Sometimes even going quiet.
"Why not get out? Come to the streets—money's everywhere. We'll figure it out."
On the holo-call, V was busy working. Jackie had just finished another gig, sitting in his usual open booth at Lizzie's Bar, nursing a drink.
"Gotta get promoted. Gotta put in overtime. It's like I have everything and nothing at the same time."
V sighed, shaking her head with a bitter smile.
Jackie sat up straighter. "That boss of yours, uh, what's his name again?"
"Arthur Jenkins..."
"Right, right. Running with those corp dogs—one day they're gonna sell you out clean. But hey, when you're off work, come by Lizzie's—"
"Few drinks of this stuff, all your worries disappear."
Jackie raised his glass, muttered a toast, and knocked it back.
"I sell you, you sell me—that's Arasaka, right? Lately we've got this project... Dogtown, that shithole. And I'm like a mother hen, worrying about this, checking on that. Got some guy who isn't exactly thrilled about slaving for the corp doing the legwork."
"Subordinate's got too many ideas. Hard to keep him on a leash."
V laid it all out.
She never hid anything from Jackie. Whatever was on her mind, she said it.
Whenever it got like this, Jackie would quote Mama Welles. Her words were gospel to him.
V found talking to Jackie more relaxing than any mindfulness coach or yoga session.
"Smile, chica... nothing's too big to get past."
V nodded. "How are things with Misty?"
Jackie got quieter whenever this topic came up.
He scratched his head.
"The stuff she's into... I don't really get it. But I support her, you know? Chasing a girl, patience never hurts."
Before hanging up, Jackie Welles spoke seriously:
"Chica—we can be anything. Just not cowards."
V's drive came roaring back. "Then wish me success in my career, amigo!"
Jackie laughed. "I gotta see for myself when I can make it to the Afterlife—"
"That's where the real opportunities are! If I could run with a badass fixer... oh, like Dexter DeShawn! Just thinking about it gets me hyped!"
A corpo. A street kid.
Night City had no stranger friendship than this.
Right, chica?
Jackie Welles thought to himself.