Watson District – Kabuki.
The streets here never truly slept. Neon signs flickered in every shade of pink, violet, and electric blue, buzzing against the backdrop of rain-slick alleys. Holographic adverts spiraled overhead—half-girls, half-androids beckoning strangers with painted smiles, promising cheap thrills and expensive regrets. The stench of fried synth-meat mixed with the tang of engine oil and ozone. This was Kabuki, a place where the weak were eaten alive unless they learned how to snarl like predators.
And in Kabuki, one name carried weight: Tiger Claws.
The gang ran the district like an open-air casino. Disciplined, ruthlessly efficient, and steeped in Japanese tradition, they weren't like the chaotic Maelstrom of the north. No—Tiger Claws didn't need cyberpsychosis to terrify people. Their sharp suits, tattoos, and katana gleaming under neon light were enough of a warning. If you didn't poke the tiger, you could survive in Kabuki. But if you did… your body might be found floating in the oily river, stripped of chrome.
Still, there was one place even the Tiger Claws hadn't fully reclaimed: Lizzie's Bar.
Once, it had been just another Tiger Claws asset, nothing more than a pleasure den wrapped in alcohol and smoke. But everything changed because of a woman named Liz. A sex worker, tired of seeing her friends abused and discarded, she had dared to stand up to the gang. Her rebellion became legend—others rallied to her side, forming what would later be called the Mox.
Liz didn't live to see the victory. Like all legends in Night City, hers ended in blood. She was killed during the riot that pushed the Tiger Claws out of the bar. Her sisters renamed the place Lizzie's Bar in her honor, a beacon for sex workers, outcasts, and anyone needing a sliver of safety in a city built on betrayal.
The Tiger Claws never forgave that humiliation. They still circled Lizzie's like vultures, waiting for weakness. That was why Mox members always stood watch at the entrance.
Tonight, under the drizzle and the buzz of neon, Luca approached the door. His jacket clung to his shoulders, rainwater dripping off the synthetic fabric. As soon as he stepped up to the entrance, one of the Mox guards slid in front of him.
"Looks like trouble just came knocking."
Luca tilted his head. He recognized the face—a woman with turquoise hair tied into braids, heavy cybernetic augmentations glinting under her skin. Ruita. He remembered her vividly—not from this world, but from the game he had once played.
"Oh, Ruita. Don't say that," Luca said smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'm not trouble. And I'm definitely not with the Tiger Claws."
Ruita narrowed her eyes, scanning him up and down with suspicion. "That so?"
"Of course," Luca replied with a chuckle, playing casual. "Besides, what are you doing on door duty tonight? When do you clock off? I'll book your time."
Ruita's expression soured. She rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't spin out of her sockets. "Get lost with that. If you're coming in, then hurry up already."
Before Luca could respond, a heavy arm landed on his shoulder.
"Holy shit, hermano, you're a regular here, aren't you?"
It was Jackie Welles—loud, warm, impossible to ignore. His gold chain bounced against his chest as he leaned in close, whispering with a mischievous grin.
"How could I be a regular?" Luca answered quickly. "This is my first time."
But in the back of his mind, another thought lingered: In the game, it wasn't the first time. Not even close.
Jackie didn't buy it for a second. "Come on, I saw how familiar you were with that chica outside. Don't lie—you must come here all the time."
"She looked at me like a stranger, didn't she? I swear this is my first time."
"Then how the hell did you know her name?" Jackie chuckled, elbowing him. "What, you scoped this place out ahead of time?"
"…You got me." Luca sighed, raising his hands in defeat. There was no good way to explain knowledge from another life. "I might've done a little research."
"Haha! That's what I'm talking about." Jackie slapped his back with enough force to make him stumble. "Men gotta enjoy life. It'd be a damn shame not to come here at least once."
Luca shook his head in disbelief. Jackie had this uncanny ability—within minutes of meeting someone, he was already acting like an old friend. That easy charm could melt steel. Anyone else, and Luca would've kept his guard up. But Jackie? Somehow, he was different.
Except when it came to Maelstrom. No one could make friends with those cyberpsychotic lunatics.
Jackie flexed his biceps with exaggerated pride. "You don't understand, chico. This is my unique charm. Works every time."
"Yeah, sure." Luca smirked, though deep down, he couldn't help but admire Jackie's confidence. "Come on, let's grab a private room."
Jackie's grin faltered. "Eh… that's kinda pricey, don't you think?"
"It's fine," Luca said firmly. "You helped me out today. If it weren't for you, I'd be in deep shit."
Jackie quickly waved it off. "Don't make a big deal about it, hermano. I just did what anyone would've done."
"Not everyone, Jackie." Luca's tone softened. "Let me do this."
They pushed through the neon haze and pulsing music until they reached the bar. Holo-girls danced above the counter, their projections flickering with each bass drop. The bartender, a man with a sharp jawline and tired eyes, leaned forward as Luca approached.
"Private room," Luca said. "And a bottle of Hundred Spirits Tequila. Jack, what do you want? Or should we order… company?"
Jackie nearly spat. "No, no! Just the two of us, hermano. Drinks are enough. Get me a case of Happy Skull."
That name hit Luca like a punch. Happy Skull—Jackie's favorite beer. The same brand they drank at his funeral in the game. A quiet pang of grief stabbed at his chest.
Not this time, Jack. I won't let you go down that road again.
"Another case of Happy Skull it is." Luca transferred credits through his cyberdeck. The screen flashed: 999 eurodollars.
"Guest, that's too much," the bartender quickly said.
"The rest is your tip." Luca smiled faintly, covering his ignorance of the actual price.
The man blinked, then grinned. "Well, thank you, generous stranger. Name's Matteo. Next time you're here, I'll give you a discount."
"Appreciate it, Matteo."
With drinks secured, Luca and Jackie headed into the private room.
As soon as the door slid shut, Jackie let out a whistle. "Damn, hermano, I've never seen anyone as polite as you in Night City. You're tipping strangers like you're some corpo exec on vacation."
Luca chuckled. It was bittersweet. He had grown up under the red flag and spring breeze—politeness wasn't just courtesy, it was instinct. Yet in this world, kindness was seen as weakness.
"Let's do this right. I'm Luca. But in Night City, people call me… Iron Rider."
"Iron Rider?" Jackie raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Sounds more like a car than a name."
"Don't misunderstand. My real name is confidential. Safer if no one knows it."
Jackie leaned back, satisfied. "Ahh, I get it now. You're a big shot, huh? Should've guessed."
Luca shook his head. "Not even close. Just another face trying to survive."
Jackie lifted his bottle, foam spilling over the rim. "Then let's drink to survival. To tomorrow!"
"To tomorrow." Their bottles clinked together, the sound sharp against the muffled bass outside.
Jackie wiped his mouth and grinned. "Didn't expect you to like Hundred Spirits Tequila. Got a good sister who's crazy about it too."
"A good sister?" Luca asked carefully.
"Yeah. You probably figured it out—you look corpo yourself. My sister V is corpo too. Works for Arasaka. Sharp as hell, but… I worry. Corpo rats will do anything to climb that ladder. I'm always afraid something's gonna happen to her."
Luca hid his reaction behind a sip of beer. V. The protagonist. In this timeline, she really was Corpo.
"In Night City, danger's everywhere," Luca said slowly. "But inside a corpo? At least you don't have to worry about getting shot in the street."
Jackie sighed, eyes clouded. "She says the same thing. But corpos? Snake pits, hermano. You never know when someone close will stab you in the back."
The room fell into silence for a moment, neon light pulsing across their faces. Outside, music roared, people laughed, and lives were ruined in real time. But inside, two men clinked bottles again, carving out a fragile brotherhood in the heart of Night City.
And Luca swore, silently and fiercely, that this time, Jackie wouldn't die..