Chapter 124: So Tell Me — Have the Voodoo Boys Gotten Cocky, or Have I Forgotten How to Swing a Blade?

Night fell over Pacifica, a sky of fractured lights and static clouds hanging low over the city's carcass.

In the flicker of an old holoscreen, Jackie Welles' holo-comm buzzed to life.

"Got a call," he said, glancing at the others. "Our contact says he's ready to meet. Already sent the location."

Neo looked up from his seat, calm as ever. "Where?"

Jackie blinked at the message, his brow furrowing. "A restaurant. Huh. That's… weird."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Weird how?"

"Because Hans," Jackie said, "doesn't do face-to-face. Ever. Guy's been a middleman in Pacifica longer than the voodoo fires have burned. Always virtual, always filtered. But now he wants to meet in person? And he's the one picking the place."

The voice on the other end of the line answered before Neo could.

"Depends on who wants to meet me," Hans said, smooth and relaxed. "For regular people, I keep things behind a screen. Keeps me alive. But this isn't a regular case, is it?"

He chuckled softly. "When a legend like Neo walks into Pacifica, I don't hide behind a firewall. I pay my respects in person."

"Tell him," Hans continued, "I'm already waiting. Don't keep me long."

The line cut out.

Jackie stared at the fading holo and sighed. "You know, choom, sometimes I feel like your reputation does the work for the both of us."

Neo rose from his chair, slipping on his coat. "Then let's not make him wait."

Rebecca was already loading rounds into her pistol, her grin wild. "Let's go burn some air."

Jackie groaned. "Reb, it's a meeting, not a firefight."

"Yeah," she said sweetly, "and it's Pacifica. Just in case the meeting decides to turn into one."

Neo smirked. "She's not wrong."

...

As they turned to leave, Lucy didn't look up from her console. She was deep in code, her face lit by ghostly blue light.

"You go," she said softly. "I'll stay and keep the grid clean. No sense in us all showing our faces."

Neo nodded, pausing just long enough to say, "I'll bring something back. Something good."

Lucy smiled faintly without looking away from the screen. "I'll hold you to that."

...

The rendezvous point was an old Western restaurant on the crumbling edge of Westwind.

At first glance, the place looked like it had survived a war—and maybe it had.

The walls were riddled with bullet holes, the ceiling sagged with impact scars, and someone had patched a missile crater in the corner with duct tape and neon paint.

And yet, soft piano music drifted from a dusty speaker, clashing absurdly with the destruction around it.

Rebecca's eyes widened. "This is… cozy."

Jackie snorted. "Pacifica cozy, yeah. Looks like a war museum had a baby with a diner."

Before they could take another step, a voice called from inside.

"Jackie! Over here!"

Hans waved them over from a corner booth. He was middle-aged, chrome implants gleaming faintly around his eyes, and dressed like a man who thought confidence was bulletproof armor.

"Choom!" Jackie greeted, bumping fists before gesturing toward Neo. "This here's the man you wanted to meet."

Hans' smile widened. "Of course. Mr. Neo. Welcome to Pacifica." He glanced at Rebecca and added quickly, "And Miss Rebecca. An honor."

Rebecca's grin was all teeth. "You say that like you've heard of me."

"Oh, believe me," Hans said, sliding into his seat again, "everyone's heard of you two."

They sat. A moment passed before Hans gestured vaguely around the restaurant. "Don't mind the decor. It's the best place left in this district that hasn't been burned down—or hacked to rubble."

Neo didn't respond. He wasn't the type to small-talk. He simply sat back, letting Jackie and Hans swap pleasantries while the food arrived—cheap synth-steak and lukewarm beer.

When they'd eaten enough to break the silence, Hans finally leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"So tell me," he said, "what brings a man like you to a graveyard like Pacifica?"

Neo's answer was calm, deliberate. "I need your help making contact with someone."

Hans blinked. "Someone?"

"The Voodoo Boys."

Hans' face twitched. "Oh. Them."

"I'm looking for their leader," Neo continued. "Maman Brigitte."

At that name, Hans' half-smile cracked. "You don't aim small, do you?" He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting toward the cracked window as though Brigitte herself might be listening. "That's not a name you just... call up. They're not like the Animals or the Claws. You don't reach them—they reach you."

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "The Voodoo Boys are… private. Obsessive. They live in their own layer of the Net, barely touch ground unless they have to. Outsiders don't talk to them. Not unless they want to get ghosted—literally."

Neo tilted his head slightly, his tone unreadable. "So you're saying I'm not qualified."

Hans froze. "No! No, no, that's not what I meant—"

Jackie cut in, voice low and firm. "Hans, we paid you good money for this hookup. You said you could make it happen. Now you're telling us you can't? That's not how this works, amigo."

The tension in the air thickened like smoke.

Rebecca tapped the side of her weapon, her voice sugar-sweet. "Relax, choom. No one's saying you can't. But you know, my Ironheart here—" she patted the massive revolver lovingly—"has a nasty habit of going off when people waste my time."

Hans stared at the weapon, throat tightening. "Alright, alright! I'll— I'll try, okay? I'll pull every string I have."

Neo leaned forward, his eyes cold. "Good. And when you do, deliver this message exactly as I say it."

Hans swallowed hard. "I-I'm listening."

Neo's tone was calm, almost conversational. "Tell Maman Brigitte this: I'm in Pacifica. The Relic is in Pacifica. How violent this gets depends entirely on how she wants to play it."

He smiled faintly. "Word for word, Hans. Don't skip a word."

For a moment, Hans just stared, frozen. Then the blood drained from his face.

He knew what this meant.

Delivering that message wasn't just dangerous—it was suicidal.

To defy the Voodoo Boys was to vanish from the Net, your consciousness burned out like an old circuit. But to defy Neo? That was a slower death.

He looked between the sword on Neo's back and Rebecca's finger resting idly on the trigger of her pistol.

"Alright," he croaked finally. "I'll… I'll make sure she gets the message."

"Good man," Jackie said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Knew you'd see reason."

But as they left, Hans sat slumped in his chair, staring at the half-empty glass before him.

He'd just written his own obituary.

...

Empire Tower, the Voodoo Boys' hidden fortress.

In a dark room lit only by code streams and cyber-glow, Maman Brigitte listened to the whisper of data from the Net.

A local intermediary's voice, carried through layers of proxy relays, reached her ears.

"The Night's Ember crew is in Pacifica. Neo himself is here. He's come for you."

Brigitte's painted lips curved into a smile.

So that was it.

Her messenger hadn't returned from Night City—sent to the grand opening of the bar called Night's Ember—and she had been preparing to make her move.

But now?

She didn't have to.

The storm was already walking through her door.

"Interesting," she murmured, her voice like static and silk. "Then let him come."

The shadows behind her stirred as her lieutenants raised their heads.

The hunt, it seemed, was about to begin.