Max tilted his head, grin never fading. "So what's the gig then?"
Jackie's eyes narrowed, the amusement in his face giving way to something harder. He leaned forward, lowering his voice so only Max could hear.
"There's this gonko. Sam Carter. Sixth Street trash. Thinks he's untouchable. Been hassling Padre's people, shakin' down the chicas, and he even put hands on that new girl V. Padre don't like disrespect."
Max's optics dimmed slightly, his smirk sharpening into something colder. "So we zero him."
"Exacto." Jackie jabbed a finger on the table for emphasis. "Carter hangs around El Coyote after dark, thinking he's some hotshot. You take him out clean, no mess, no blowback on Padre—then maybe I start thinking you're more than just another kid with chrome and a mouth."
Max leaned back, letting the weight of the words hang in the air for a moment. Then, with a grin that was all teeth, he pushed himself up from the booth.
"Alright. One gonko merc-toy, coming right up. Let's go make Padre proud."
Jackie chuckled, shaking his head as he stood to follow. "Choom, you're either the craziest bastard I ever met, or the smartest. Either way… let's see if you've got what it takes."
Max smirked, tossing a few eddies on the counter as he slid out of the booth. "Let's go."
Jackie raised a brow, following. "Go where, mano? You even know where Carter hangs?"
"Not my style to wait around," Max replied coolly. "I'm going to his turf. Make him answer on his own ground."
Jackie let out a low whistle, shaking his head with a grin. "Bold, huh? If you pull this off, I'm yours."
Max blinked, then deadpanned, "Yeah, not that way."
Jackie barked a laugh. "No, no, choom—I mean I'm in your crew."
"Good." Max adjusted his coat, eyes narrowing. "So, give me the address. Or, if you want, you can sit this one out and wait for a love letter."
Jackie chuckled, shaking his head. "You're a crazy cabrón. Alright, Carter's spot's two blocks south of El Coyote, top floor of a busted apartment block. He thinks he's king of the street."
Max nodded once. "Then let's go knock on his throne."
Outside, Max slid behind the wheel of a sleek, black Caliburn Murkmobile. The engine purred like a beast. Jackie froze mid-step, staring at the ride.
"¡Dios mío! You're rolling around in this? Madre de Dios, choom, you flexin' hard."
Max smirked faintly, tapping the dash. "Told you already—I got money. Cars, eddies, chrome… all easy. What I don't have are good people."
Jackie nodded slowly, a grin tugging at his lips. "So that's what this is about, huh? Finding the right crew."
"Exactly." Max leaned back in the seat. "So… we going in, or you still need more convincing?"
Jackie chuckled, resting an arm on the door. "Relax, hermano. I'm already curious enough. Let's roll."
The Murkmobile's doors hissed open, gullwing-style, sharp lines gleaming under the neon. Jackie whistled low, stepping closer. "Damn, choom… she's beautiful. This thing looks like it eats streets for breakfast."
Max's smirk widened. "Do you know how to drive?"
Jackie blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. "Do I know how to drive? Cabrón, you're looking at a natural."
"Then prove it." Max tossed him the key shard.
Jackie caught it one-handed, grinning wide. "You're crazy, jefe. But I like crazy."
The Murkmobile's engine snarled to life as Jackie slid behind the wheel, Max dropping into the passenger seat. With a roar, the car peeled off into the night, neon lights streaking past as they burned toward Carter's turf.
The Murkmobile slid to a stop across from a squat, half-crumbled complex glowing in dirty neon.
Max leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "That the place?"
Jackie checked the street, then the windows. He thumbed back the slide on his pistol with a clack. "Yeah. Carter's crew squats here. Expect heat."
Max tilted his head. "Put that away for a sec. Let me get a read."
Jackie frowned, but holstered it. "Fine, jefe. Show me what you got."
Max closed his eyes, leaning back in the seat. His breathing slowed, his fingers twitching faintly as if tapping on invisible keys. After a few seconds, a ghostly hum filled the air, static rippling through the Murkmobile's dash. The holo-screen flickered, spitting out scrambled feeds from the building's cams, broken AR tags, half-corrupted chatter.
Max opened his eyes, calm as ever. "Six inside. Carter's with three of his muscle, two lookouts posted at the back. Doesn't matter—they're already dead."
Jackie blinked. "What do you mean, already dead?"
Max smirked faintly. "Ran a daemon. Overloaded their implants. By the time we walk in, they'll either be fried or pulling the trigger on themselves."
Jackie squinted at him as they moved closer to the door. "So… you a netrunner, eh?"
Max shook his head slowly, a faint grin curling on his lips. "Not just a netrunner. Think of me as… an ninja netrunner. I don't just break into systems. I break into people."
Before Jackie could ask, the sound hit them—a sickening crack followed by heavy thuds. They rounded the corner, and there they were: three of the 6th Street gangers lying sprawled at the base of the stairs, heads twisted at impossible angles, necks cleanly snapped as if by invisible hands.
Jackie froze mid-step, eyes wide. "Santa mierda…"
Max just kept walking, his boots echoing on the pavement. Without even looking back, he slid his mask into place, voice low and calm. "Told you, hermano. When I say they're already dead, I mean it."
Jackie swallowed, shaking his head as he followed. "You're on another level, choom… another damn level."
"Lest go and see, its probably over now" Max said as he came out of murkmobile and then begun o walk towards the building calmly.
Jackie hopped out first, pistol already drawn, eyes scanning the shadows with sharp, practiced motions.
Max, on the other hand, didn't even reach for a weapon. He just slid the mask fully over his face, hands tucked into his coat pockets as he strolled toward the entrance like he already owned the place.
Inside, the air was thick with smoke and the sharp, coppery tang of blood.
Jackie muttered a curse in Spanish under his breath, gun sweeping the corners. "Chingada madre…"
They didn't have to look far.
***
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It's 22 chaps ahead