"Looks like you've been getting along real well with them." Vash teased.
"Oh, c'mon." Jackie practically bounced as he walked, grin plastered on his face, "This deal's a real cash cow, choom — way better than stealing iguanas last time."
"Alright." Vash said, "You handle the middleman and the paperwork. Just tell me when it's time to act."
"V, you're a stand-up guy, mano."
Jackie stepped out to the street and called for the car.
In 2077, taxis were basically extinct. Anyone with a brain could link their vehicle to their neural interface. Anywhere in Night City — any corner with a signal — you could summon your ride, and it would drive itself to you like a loyal dog.
After a week of Jackie using Vash's Galena "Rattler" like it was his own, the thing barely looked like the same car. The exterior had been swapped for high-end carbon-black ballistic plating — clean, sharp, and mean. A world apart from the dusty Badlands beater it used to be.
"V." Jackie said, scratching the back of his neck like he suddenly remembered he should feel guilty, "I'm gonna go meet someone. Taking the subway just… doesn't feel right, you know?"
Vash waved it off, "It's a car. Use it."
Besides, the Kusanagi CT-3X was more than enough for his day-to-day.
"I already sent you the exact location of the place." Jackie said, "Go check it out first, choom."
The car rolled up nearby. Jackie gave Vash a friendly pat on the shoulder, then climbed in and took off.
Vash pulled up the location.
Sunshine Estate. It was in Watson District, absolute slums — far from the usual sub-district routes. No smart renovations. No corp logos. No corporate "safety".
A no-man's land.
Vash set the route and swung onto his Kusanagi CT-3X.
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Even with a superbike under him, it still took half an hour.
Jackie hadn't exaggerated — this place was so remote it barely felt like Night City. The traffic thinned. The neon faded. The air changed.
Sunshine Estate sat near a few residential blocks whose design looked like something dragged out of a housing complex from seventy years ago.
Vash stopped at the entrance and studied the buildings.
They were… well maintained. In his previous life, apartments like this could've sold for millions. So how the hell was this a slum?
Then he understood. It wasn't about dirt. It was about control.
No smart renovations meant no corporate jurisdiction. No corporate jurisdiction meant no "protection", no services, no oversight — just a stamp that said slum and a shrug from everyone who mattered.
To Vash, the place looked cleaner than the apartment he'd been living in.
His arrival drew eyes immediately. People peeked from windows. Heads tilted from doorways. Their gazes were wary and shifty — especially when they saw the Yaiba Kusanagi CT-3X parked beside him.
Watson was tense at the best of times. And with Little China, Tiger Claws' territory, close enough to loom in the imagination, a stranger on an expensive bike looked like trouble.
The poor were at the bottom of Night City's ladder, and Sunshine Estate was full of the ones who couldn't climb. Elderly. Infants. Disabled people who couldn't afford chrome.
The young either sold their lives to corporations or ran with gangs. Around here, people said that to survive in this city — even a stray dog had to scavenge through corp-controlled trash bins.
Vash waited, but no landlord came to meet him. So, staying polite, he didn't just walk in. He called out from the entrance.
"Hello! Is the landlord of Sunshine Estate around? I'm here to rent an apartment."
A moment later, an elderly man emerged. He studied Vash carefully. Seeing he looked like a normal person — not a gang psycho — his shoulders loosened by a fraction.
"You here to rent, young man?"
Vash nodded, "Yes. But — why's everyone hiding in broad daylight? What are you afraid of?"
The old man flinched at the way Vash addressed him: "Mr. Landlord". In nearly eighty years, the man had heard more insults than respect.
"We can't help being afraid." The landlord said, bitterness creeping into his voice, "No smart renovations, no equipment — so we're not under corporate jurisdiction. NCPD won't protect us either." His jaw tightened, "And the local tyrant in Watson… is Maelstrom. Heartless bastards."
He waved a hand toward the buildings.
"Come on. I'll show you the rooms."
"Alright."
Sunshine Estate had plenty of rooms and not enough residents. But the basics were intact — water, electricity, gas. And a handful of "antique" appliances: rice cookers, induction stoves, old fans that still worked if you kicked them right.
Vash liked it immediately.
He paused, glanced up, and pointed toward the upper floors, "Mr. Landlord — if nobody's living up there, I want the top three floors. All of them."
The landlord clearly didn't understand why someone alone would rent that much space, but he didn't ask questions. In Night City, questions got people killed.
"No problem." He said, "Just comes down to rent."
"Don't worry about it." Vash replied, "Name your price."
In the end, he secured the top three floors for €$8,000.
Once the deal was done, he moved in immediately. He didn't have luggage anyway. He'd have Jackie bring a few clothes later.
He rode the elevator alone to the top floor. Then he climbed to the rooftop and looked out over the neighborhood — electrical boxes, old wiring, and outdated surveillance cameras that the corps had written off years ago.
He spoke softly.
"Friday. Take full control of every available surveillance camera and energy system within two kilometers. I want to know every little movement."
「No problem, Mr. Vash」
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T/N: Comment, give me Power Stones, like and favorite, it all supports me and makes me go foward with this. Appreciate my other stories as well, I guarantee the good work!
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