The garage gates creaked open, revealing Muamar Reyes' lot — packed with chrome dreams, desert-beaten corpses, and hidden monsters.
Muamar "El Capitán" Reyes stood waiting, cigarillo between his teeth, jacket clean and sharp like he just stepped out of a Corpo meeting.
"Welcome, welcome! You brought the old Galena? I'll take her. She's worth, what... 20k on a good day?"
V nodded, tossing the keychip with casual confidence.
"You know I'm looking for something stronger."
"Then come, my friend. Let me show you what Night City has to offer."
They passed rows of vehicles. Jackie gravitated toward bikes. V kept walking.
First up: a Villefort Alvarado V4F 570 Delegate.
"Luxury. Quiet ride. Corpo's choice," Muamar said.
V scanned it.
"Too pretty. All show, no bite. Torque curve's inconsistent, and the onboard battery routing? Already flagged in two recalls."
Next: a Makigai Maimai P126 — compact, neon-green.
"Stylish," Muamar smiled.
"It looks like it was designed by a depressed vending machine. Not my style."
Next came a sleek Quadra Type-66 Avenger.
V stopped. Jackie's eyes lit up.
"Now that's a machine!"
"Fast, yeah," V admitted, scanning. "But it overheats in high pursuit, and the rear armor's practically paper. This is for looking good while dying fast."
They kept walking. Several more lined the rows — Thornton Colby CX410 Butte, Archer Quartz Sidewinder, a Rayfield Aerondight S9 far back behind lock and glass.
Then, Muamar led them into a back garage.
Lights flicked on. Dust floated in the air.
There it stood.
A matte-black beast.
A custom Merrimac Warlock.
Painted like a storm. Armored. Sleek, but brutal. Reinforced suspension. Plated glass. Sealed intakes. Electromagnetic shielding. And just visible under the front wheel arch: retractable mounted smartguns.
"Built for Councilor Sosa," Muamar said. "Political VIP. He never got to use it. Died in someone else's car. His wife sold this to me within a week. No grief. Just the check cleared. That's Night City."
V stepped forward, running his fingers along the finish. His Kiroshi scanned:
Militech SmartCore ECU
Dual-core cold-fusion battery system
Verified clean PIN — registered, no red flags
Smelled like brand new leather
"How much?" V asked.
Muamar took a slow drag of his cigarillo.
"If you were to buy this car brand new, with all the mods — mil-spec armor, smartgun hardpoints, EMP shielding, nano-treated internals — you're looking at over a million eddies. Easy." However you can get this baby for 220.000 eurodollars.
"Why you're offering it at this price?"
Muamar smiled.
"Bought it off Sosa's widow for that exact price. Politician died before it was delivered. She didn't care what it was worth. Just wanted it gone."
Jackie blinked like he misheard.
"Chingón… that's not just a deal. That's a f***in' heist."
"I've had it for over a year," Muamar said. "Solos can't afford it. Corpos don't trust me to sell it. But you?"
He gave V a look that lingered on his posture, muscle density, the low hum of cybernetics under the skin.
"You've got weight. Presence. Military chrome. You could crush a car with one punch and still leave calmly."
"So this is charity?"
Muamar grinned.
"It's an investment. I see a legend in the making. And I want my name on the ledger when your story gets told."