3 Chop Shop
My two lovely companions' eyes lit up as they enjoyed the side benefits of putting out for Juan with the Thiccness. Breakfast!
Sure they were more than a little put upon by the early morning after such an exhausting night, but my machaca breakfast plates are good enough, which is a damn sight better than most people can achieve with syth-food. In the future everyone is on the carnivore diet because your options are Kibble and SCOP (Single Cell Organic Proteins). One is dog food for humans and the other is capable of producing substances roughly eighty percent as good as real animal products.
If someone is a vegan in this desolate future run. Run away fast. They have enough money for actual plant produce then they have enough money to chrome up with shit you can't even imagine in your little street kid mind. Hell, even most Corpos would have no idea what someone with that kind of scratch might be packing.
The girls in question where both solid 6 of of 10s. And I mean that on a scale where 5 is a plain jane you'd never think twice about, not whatever fucked scale you use where a regular looking chick is a three. On a real scale you can bring 6s home and your parents will be proud of you. A 6 is someone in decent shape, good hygiene, with an obvious attractive feature. Maybe some nice hips, great thighs or banging breasts. In this case a pair of bedonks that look incredible side by side or stacked.
As a 7 I pick these chicks up with ease, other 7s require a genuine effort as their chromosomes or cyberware all line up damn fine, and 8s require an Intelligence check. If she can't pass that then she's mine. 8s are the type that appear on ads and runways, so good looking that they never really needed anything else to get by in life, and as such tend towards the vapid, and I can think circles around the majority of people. As such, I party with 8s a startling amount for a man suffering a debilitating lack of fatness in his wallet.
I don't fuck with 9s. Dudes catch bullets when 9s are involved. Chicks that hot have SIMPS lined up to axe murder guys that defile their goddess.
I gave those round bedonks one final slap as I dropped them off on my way to work that morning. The chop shop is one of many shady businesses in a Heywood industrial park owned by the Valentinos. Lots of shady enterprises mixed with legal businesses that provide money laundering.
The chop shop was nothing like you'd see in a movie, a big warehouse full of sports cars. That shit is exciting, titillating. Not real at all. Chopping is good eddies, but pretty mundane work in the organized crime scene. The Valentinos run a bunch of big scrap yards and when cars get totaled in Night City 60 percent end up in one of them where we pull the ID's and then send someone to go steal a vehicle of the same make and model. Those stolen cars will then end up at a small venue. Someone's house, a small mechanics shop, or mid-sized warehouse in an industrial park where everyone is an associate of the gang at least. Now big factory or hangar.
I parked my truck and walked to the small office space that corresponded with the 8000 square foot warehouse the work is done in sandwiched between identical buildings that shield the operation from any street view. I saw Small Juan leaning near the door smoking a cigarette that he threw down when he saw me and stomped out. We were dressed up in similar jumpsuits though his was navy where mine was a dark gray.
"Cutting it close." He said as he checked the time on his phone.
"Shows that I value my time." I smirked as we entered and saw Manny sitting in one of the two units in the office.
The man was sipping his coffee and checking security footage of the night before on fast forward looking for snooping cops, rival gangs, or filthy scavengers, "Right on time, ninos. You two will be working together. I want two cars done by closing. Bonus pay if you get three done."
"How much for four?" I asked causing the man to chuckle.
"You two get four a day and I'll pay you enough to get you chrome'd out and gold plated by the end of the year." Manny nodded his head to the door that led into the work area, "Port 6, get to work."
In Port 6 waited a green Thorton Galena, a small economy car typically owned by teenagers, the elderly, and losers that have given up on ever making more than minimum wage. The government used to subsidize these things to try and get more people driving to work every day.
"Clean it out while I get the plates off and look over our tools." I told Small Juan who immediately bristled at the order, "Unless you want to waste a half hour while my wide ass tries shimmying around in there."
Small Juan got the idea and sighed as I got to work. After we got rid of all the personal stuff we went to work unbolting the front end - fender and hood - then cut out the windshield before unbolting the doors and seats. Over time the car companies waged a war against guys like us making the process harder and harder.
In 2000 it would only take an hour or two to strip a car. Now it averages four. As we lit up the cutting torch to slice through the roof supports up front and the floor under the steering wheel we were on target for an hour and a half. Getting the dash out is were Juanie proved that he's no gonk. We got the valuable air bags out no hassle. We didn't need to chop the rear, so our work was done. The machinist would change the part ID's to match those of a totaled car and the parts would end up in Valentino mechanics shops or salvage yards, the panels in body shops. They'd sell quick as there are a lot of Galenas on the roads.
A number of guys were staring at us as we finished and then one of them spoke, "He really is Handy Man Jesus. Sent here to save us from home improvement and flat tires."
"Get back to work!" Manny's voice yelled out over the intercom making the slacking mechanics scatter.
"You do good work, Juanie." I complimented my side kick.
"You think they put me in here because of my handsome face?" he shot back as we got our station ready for the next car.
Small Juan was good with his tools, but I still did 70 percent of the work which is why we managed to get through four cars despite taking an extra long lunch and Juanie puking during the third one due to trying to keep up with me on the pitchers of cerveza. Three quarts had left the poor boy blind drunk, but for me it was a good buzz.
Manny was waiting for us as we came through after the day's work was done.
"You turned out to be everything they said." he stated as his eyes flashed from the use of cybernetics and I saw a deposit come through to my account.
"Holy shit!" Small Juan shouted as he saw his cut come over.
Holy shit indeed, Juanie. I just made enough to trade in my eyes for some pretty epic optics. I had other uses for the eddies than to just run out and chrome up, but pulling down this much every day would really see us with some preem cyberware by the end of the year. Hell, I could pick up some epic level mantis arms from the clinic in Arroyo by the weekend.
Crime does pay, and it pays well.
I grabbed Small Juan and went to the back of my truck where an XL cooler was hooked up. After unlocking it I pulled out a pair of frosty forties and handed one to my sidekick, "Today was the start of something beautiful, Juanie!" I yelled proudly, "We're going to go on so many adventures, Juanie! We're going to run around, Juanie, and do all kinds of wonderful things! You and me, Juanie! All sorts of adventures! Juan and Juan Adventures, LLC. Juanandjuanadventures dot com! The rest of the world, Juanie, they'll try to tear us apart… because they want the secret, Juanie. They want the secret of why our adventures are so good! But we won't let them Juanie, just you and me, Juanie. The world is our treasure box! You understand, Juanie?"
Small Juan looked up at me as he lit up a cigarette, then grinned.
"Fuck yeah."
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And know you all know what probably happened to that car of yours that the cops never found. A lot of research is going into this story. I.ve got to look up fallout for the mechanics, cyberpunk for the lore, and real life for the details. Thank God the government is forth coming about how organized crime works, as most of my information was published by a US Senate subcommittee. that's how much I care, homies.
If you appreciate how much I care you can always donate to support me and my family at
ko - fi . com / jmanm
P.S. JManM's criminal advise is not to be followed. It is only to entertain and amuse.
