The shotgun kicked like a mule.
The blast tore through the windshield of the nearest corporate car. Safety glass spiderwebbed, then exploded outward in a glittering storm. The driver's head snapped back as the spread chewed through visor and face; the body went limp over the wheel.
With no hands on the controls, the vehicle lurched, fishtailed, and clipped the guardrail. Sparks sprayed. A heartbeat later it cartwheeled into the ditch and bloomed into fire.
Vash had already dropped back into the cabin. Bullets stitched the air where his head had been a second earlier, pinging off the doorframe with sharp metallic snaps.
"Shit — how the hell'd this happen?!"
Jackie was a hair away from cracking. Seconds ago he'd been daydreaming about getting paid, about drinks and bragging rights. Now they were in a running gun battle, chased down by Corpo dogs with deep pockets and deeper grudges.
"V, what the hell is going on?! Thought you said this gig'd be smooth. So why we got Corpo dogs on our ass?!"
Jackie's panic came in waves, but Vash's voice stayed even, "It's simple. We got sold out. The border checkpoint took our bribe… then called the corporate to cash in again."
"Greedy bastards!" Jackie slammed the steering wheel. The old car shuddered as it ate another pothole.
"Jack, breathe." Vash said.
"Breathe? Choom, I got Corpo dogs on our culo! One wrong move and I'm muerto, pendejo!" Jackie threw out a string of Spanish that didn't need translating.
Vash grimaced, "Then drive clean."
He cracked the window and leaned out again.
There were more corporate cars than last time — black paint, corporate decals, reinforced bumpers. Agents hung out of windows with compact rifles, firing short, controlled bursts meant to herd them into a stop.
Vash didn't waste time aiming like a range shooter. He aimed like someone who'd done this when the target shot back.
Bang!
The shotgun thundered. Vash snapped down immediately, cheek brushing the seat as rounds cut the space above.
A pursuing car's front tire detonated, rubber and rim shredding apart. The vehicle yawed hard, lost traction, and skated sideways into the shoulder before plunging nose-first into the ditch.
"V… that shootin'…" Jackie's cursing died mid-breath. In the rearview mirror he'd seen it: load, lean, fire, vanish — then the enemy car was already done.
He had been a merc long enough to recognize what that meant. You didn't get that calm without bodies on your conscience.
"Jack." Vash chuckled while feeding shells with practiced fingers, "Everyone's got their secrets."
"Yeah." Jackie muttered, eyes hard on the road, "Everyone's got secrets."
He drove like his life depended on it — because it did. He whipped the wheel left, then right, making the old suspension groan. Bullets hammered the trunk and rear quarter panels, but none found the power system.
"V, what's the play?!"
"Crush the Corpo dogs."
Vash rose for another shot.
Bang!!
Another vehicle bucked as its engine bay took the hit. Smoke belched from under the hood, thick and oily, and it fell back, hazard-lights strobing as it slowed.
Jackie's eyes lit up like he'd found religion, "Nova. Let's crush these Corpo dogs!"
In Night City, the corporations wasn't just a boss — it was the sky, the law, the leash around your throat. It dictated what you ate, what you owed, how you breathed. Anyone with even a shred of pride dreamed of seeing the corporate machine stumble.
And Vash — steady hands, colder nerves — was making it stumble.
The chase turned into a brutal tug-of-war. The corporate cars were faster, newer, better tuned, but they couldn't close the gap on a second-hand beater that refused to die. Every time Vash appeared, thunder answered — and another pursuer dropped away.
Soon they stopped trying to crowd in.
They couldn't catch up without eating lead, and they couldn't win an exchange at this range. Getting closer was volunteering to be the next wreck on the roadside.
Corporate assets were corporate property — cars, people, weapons, reputations. In just a few minutes they'd already burned through losses worth more than the cargo.
The distance grew.
Then, finally, the corporate line broke. The remaining vehicles peeled off one by one, refusing to pay the price.
"Ha!" Jackie laughed, loud and wild, hands still white-knuckled on the wheel, "That's what I'm talkin' about! Been a minute since I felt this alive. V, you're a damn beast — in a good way!"
"They didn't send their best." Vash said, wiping powder residue from his thumb, "We got lucky."
"Lucky my ass. I've been in Night City a long time, and people like you are rare." Jackie glanced over, grin sharp, "Trust me — keep this up and you'll make a name for yourself. You'll be a legend."
"We'll see." Vash said flatly, "Night City legends all end up crowding the cemetery."
❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖
They rolled up to an abandoned warehouse with rusted shutters and a dead neon sign. Jackie killed the engine and hopped out, popping the trunk.
The cargo was still there. Untouched.
"Thank God." Jackie exhaled, shoulders finally dropping.
Vash stepped out, tone businesslike, "We crossed the border. Pay me and we're even."
"Uh…" Jackie scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking like a kid caught stealing, "Look, V… I'm a little short. Can't pay you right now."
Vash lowered his voice on purpose, letting it go cold, "You trying to play me?"
"No, no — don't start, V." Jackie's hands went up fast, "I don't welch. We deliver this, I get paid, you get your cut. I swear."
Vash studied him for a beat, then nodded once, "Fine. I can let the commission slide… but you owe me one thing."
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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!
That's it and happy reading! (-‿◦)