Chapter 345
2-in-1-chapter
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"Besides, your people have never cooperated with mine before. Once the operation begins, I'm afraid they'll drag my team down."
History was full of examples of disorganized, patchwork units performing disastrously on the battlefield.
Leo trusted his own people, but he didn't trust the Animals—even if they were technically allies right now.
He had no intention of letting the Animals screw things up during the raid on the Voodoo Boys.
This was their only chance to eliminate the Voodoo Boys.
Even letting one of them escape would mean mission failure.
Failure was not an option.
"…Fine," Mosley said, finally accepting Leo's reasoning with a sigh of relief. But almost immediately, another question occurred to him.
"The intel you provided is very useful—but how exactly did you learn where the Voodoo Boys base is?"
Leo didn't answer directly. Instead, he waved dismissively.
"That's not something you need to worry about. I have my own channels. All you need to know is that the location I gave you isn't just their decoy—it's their real stronghold."
He spread his hands. "Alright. I've shown my sincerity. Isn't it time you did the same?"
Leo wasn't worried that Mosley might refuse to cooperate.
Maintaining net security and safeguarding the Blackwall was NetWatch's duty.
Sometimes, ignorance was a blessing; not knowing meant not worrying.
Others could afford not to care about the Blackwall. But NetWatch couldn't—because they knew better than anyone how fragile it was, and how brutal the AIs on the other side were.
If those rogue AIs ever broke through, no one would survive.
That was why NetWatch had sent Mosley to Night City.
Strictly speaking, the Voodoo Boys alone weren't capable of toppling the Blackwall.
And globally, they weren't the only ones stirring up trouble.
In terms of threat level, the Voodoo Boys weren't even at the top.
But even so, once NetWatch discovered their activities, they couldn't ignore it.
That was why Mosley had come to Pacifica.
Leo was certain Mosley would work with him. He also wasn't worried Mosley might abandon him for another partner.
First, even if Mosley somehow managed to get approval from NetWatch for a twenty‑million‑eurodollar budget, it still wouldn't be enough to hire the security forces of a major corp.
Corps like Arasaka and Militech specialized in security, yes—but their contracts were long‑term and stable, not one‑off jobs.
They wouldn't even look at something like this.
Which meant, outside of corp security, Leo's people were the best option available.
Only a complete fool would ditch Leo to team up with some random mercs in the city.
Second, the intel Leo had given Mosley wasn't even the most important part.
The key intel—the Voodoo Boys real base—Leo hadn't shared.
So even if Mosley wanted to work with someone else, no one else knew where to hit the Voodoo Boys.
Meaning the only way to complete the mission—and maximize the benefits—was to cooperate with Leo.
Just as Leo expected, Mosley chose to work with him.
In fact, Mosley hadn't even considered anyone else.
He felt Leo was the perfect partner—and that working with him would be smooth and effective.
Mosley arranged for Leo to stay at the Grand Imperial Mall. Leo didn't refuse.
He picked a room on the top floor, facing the direction of the Voodoo Boys turf—toward the Batty Hotel and Temple of the Perishing Light (Placide Chapel).
The Animals were told to clean and prepare the room for him.
Of course, the Animals were all roughnecks—even their boss, Sasquatch, was more brute than lady.
It was unrealistic to expect them to tidy the place up nicely.
But as long as it was clean and livable, Leo was satisfied. He wasn't picky.
He called home to update V and Lucy, letting them know he'd be in Pacifica for a few days so they wouldn't worry.
He also told them to be ready: as soon as Mosley's budget request was approved, it would be time to act.
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In the days that followed, Leo settled in comfortably at the Grand Imperial Mall. To avoid exposure, Leo, like Mosley, stayed holed up inside the Mall, never setting foot beyond its doors.
But that didn't mean he sat idle.
During the day, he would climb onto the roof of Grand Imperial Mall and launch drones, sending them to scout over the Batty Hotel and the Placide Chapel.
Both locations were strongholds of the Voodoo Boys. The latter, in particular, was their true base of operations—its existence known only to the inner circle.
The drones were power-hungry machines; after one or two hours of flight, they had to return for recharging.
Leo never dared fly them too low, let alone attempt to enter the Batty Hotel itself. Even with optical camouflage, they weren't truly invisible. From a distance they could pass, but close up, even the naked eye could spot them.
So in the past few days, he had only allowed high-altitude surveillance.
Even so, the intel gathered was considerable.
The greatest confirmation was that his earlier suspicion proved correct: the Haitian immigrants and the Voodoo Boys existed in a symbiotic relationship.
To someone living comfortably back home, it might be hard to understand. But in Night City's poor and broken neighborhoods, civilians and gangs weren't always at each other's throats.
Call it a kind of Stockholm syndrome if you will—but the fact remained: people raised and living in such neighborhoods didn't always reject gangs outright. In fact, many trusted the gangs more than the police.
And some even believed that though they had to pay protection fees, it was the gangs presence that shielded them from harassment by rival groups.
The Haitian immigrants and the Voodoo Boys fit this pattern exactly.
The Batty Hotel, judging from its name, had originally been built to serve tourists. But when investors pulled out, it became Voodoo Boys territory.
From the second floor upward, entry was strictly forbidden to outsiders; only members of the gang were allowed.
Meanwhile, the first floor had been turned into a bustling black market run by the Haitian community.
There, anything could be bought—including the services of scantily clad women who beckoned and flirted with passersby.
At night, the Batty Hotel's black market closed, and the surrounding area emptied.
The Voodoo Boys were cautious; their sentry placements changed nightly, leaving no reliable patterns to exploit.
If the Batty Hotel served as their visible stronghold, then the Placide Chapel was their true hidden base.
Only the most senior members knew of it. Regular members didn't—and the Haitian civilians, of course, knew nothing.
The chapel, ostensibly a Haitian place of worship and funerals, hid a false wall. Behind it lay a secret door leading down to an underground passage.
That intel hadn't come from drones, but from Rogue's informant.
The underground base beneath the Placide Chapel was not dug by the Voodoo Boys themselves. It was a remnant of the old continental maglev tunnels, abandoned since the Fourth Corporate War decades ago.
The war had changed many things, including the fate of those tunnels beneath Pacifica.
Later, when the Voodoo Boys settled in Pacifica, they discovered the tunnel and chose to repurpose it.
They sealed off both ends, leaving the central section as their secret headquarters. To cover their tracks, they built the Placide Chapel over it.
As mentioned, only the inner circle knew of this hidden base.
So most of the time, the Voodoo Boys leadership—Maman Brigitte, Placide, and their third-in-command known only as Ti Neptune—stayed at the Batty Hotel.
To avoid suspicion, the hotel also housed plenty of hacking gear and second-tier netrunners. Most standard operations were conducted there.
But when truly sensitive work was needed, Brigitte and the others moved to the underground base. Not only was the equipment superior, but every netrunner allowed down there was handpicked elite.
Therefore, the coming mission required splitting into two squads: one to sweep the Batty Hotel, the other to assault the Placide Chapel underground base.
Leo had fewer than forty people in total.
The Voodoo Boys, including their outer ranks, numbered nearly three hundred. Roughly ten to one.
But the Voodoo Boys, whether in cyberware or weapons, were far inferior to Leo's team.
And Leo had also prepared some very special surprises tailored specifically for a netrunner gang.
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When Mosley came to see Leo again, it wasn't to give agreement—but to deliver a refusal.
The British headquarters didn't believe the situation was as dire as Mosley reported. They approved, at most, a budget increase of two million.
That meant Mosley could pay Leo no more than ten million total—including the cut already negotiated.
Subtracting three million for Mosley, Leo himself would only net seven million.
That wasn't worth the effort.
Not only because the money was too little, but because the balance between risk and reward was unacceptable.
Leo was simple: he gave exactly as much effort as he was paid for—never more.
That was true when he worked for others. It was equally true now that he ran his own company.
Expecting him to finish this job for only ten million? Impossible.
It wasn't that the Netwatch Corporation couldn't afford more.
Leo understood the reason they refused to raise Mosley's budget. Not only did they distrust the report Mosley had submitted, but they also intended to obstruct him deliberately, hoping to see him humiliated. Even if they gained nothing themselves, they still wanted to ensure that others suffered setbacks.
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