Chapter 111: Claiming Panam’s First — Supporting the Aldecaldos!

There were countless kinds of "drinking games."

The game itself never mattered—what mattered was how the players chose to make it fun.

Panam had agreed instantly, eyes glimmering with mischief. "Sure, why not? What are we playing? What kind of 'fun' did you have in mind?"

Neo chuckled, leaning back lazily. "I'm guessing the Aldecaldos had their own ways of spicing up a night. How did you do it back in the clan?"

Panam thought for a moment, smirking. "Men's games? Usually barking like dogs, calling the winner daddy, or doing something stupid that'd make everyone laugh."

She paused, taking a swig of her beer. "Women's games weren't much different. But when the table had both men and women—well, things tended to… escalate. Some clothes might come off."

Neo raised an eyebrow, amused.

Panam shrugged, her tone casual but daring. "Relax, I never actually played one of those rounds. But if you want to—"

Her lips curved into a small grin. "—I don't mind."

Neo blinked once. Then twice.

He hadn't even set the mood yet, and she'd already thrown the door wide open.

"…Yeah," he said, grinning. "Yeah, I'd like that. But not here."

As bold as he was, Neo wasn't the kind of man to peel off clothes in public—or let the woman beside him do it for the crowd's amusement.

Panam's answer was simple. "Okay."

They asked Noah for a few more crates of beer and carried them upstairs to the room.

Despite the motel's rundown exterior, the room itself was surprisingly clean—credit to Panam's connections.

The game was simple:

Rock, paper, scissors.

Loser takes off one piece of clothing.

The first few rounds were lighthearted, filled with laughter and teasing. Then the alcohol started to blur the edges, and suddenly, the air between them thickened.

In a short while, neither of them had much left on.

In the haze of drink and neon, clarity faded.

Panam moved closer, her breath warm against Neo's ear. "Do you like what you see?"

Neo's voice was low and honest. "Yeah. I do."

Panam said, "If you like it, then look some more."

They were already here, and she had taken the lead this far.

If Neo still didn't get it, that would be on him.

Neo reached out, pulled her into his arms, met in a kiss that turned from playful to hungry, stumbling to the bed and shedding the last of their hesitation with their clothes.

The motel's thin walls rattled faintly as the desert night stretched on, the noise of wind and distant engines drowned beneath their shared storm.

They fucked, hot and headlong, bodies slamming and clinging, her gasps and his low groans filling the room, the rhythm rising and breaking again and again until the night was nothing but heat and sweat and the sound of skin on skin.

By the time the horizon began to pale, after many rounds had silence finally returned. Exhausted, they drifted off in each other's arms, naked and warm, as the first thin light slid across the room.

Panam was the first to stir. The bright light of morning traced the edge of her skin reflecting her curves perfectly. She leaned in, kissed Neo lightly on the cheek, and said with a small smile,

"I'm not gonna pull some half-century-old drama on you—no crying, no 'you have to take responsibility.' We both wanted this. We're adults. We own it."

She paused, her voice softening. "But… if you ever need me, I'll stay."

Neo didn't answer in words. He just looked at her, touched her cheek, and let action speak where speech couldn't.

He wasn't the kind of man to play with hearts.

Lucy, Rebecca, Panam—each woman in his life mattered. He loved them differently, but truly.

Fleeting pleasure meant nothing to him; real connection did. That was what separated him from the animals running wild in Night City's chaos.

…

When they stepped out of the room, Takemura was already sitting on the lobby couch, posture straight, expression unreadable.

Seeing them together, he didn't flinch, didn't ask, didn't judge. He simply nodded once, as if acknowledging the obvious.

"I've confirmed it," he said. "Anders Hellman is currently with a Kang Tao convoy. Their AV column will pass over the Jackson Plains this morning."

He met Neo's eyes. "That will be our best opportunity to strike. Neo, do you have any adjustments to make before we begin?"

Neo shook his head, thinking briefly. Then his gaze shifted toward Panam. "Call the Aldecaldos. Ask if they can make it here before dawn."

Panam frowned slightly. "You're thinking of involving the clan?"

Neo's smile was faint but knowing. "Kang Tao's not just moving one man. There'll be gear, weapons, tech—assets worth millions. Let them in on the action. We take Hellman; they take the spoils."

Panam hesitated. "…You're sure about that?"

"Save the questions for later," Neo said. "We'll talk after it's done."

Panam exhaled, then grabbed her holo-com and dialed a frequency she hadn't used in months.

The line crackled to life.

"Saul," she said. "It's me. Don't hang up—I'm not calling to fight about leadership or clan politics. I've got a job. A big one."

Neo and Takemura exchanged glances as she continued.

"I'm at Jackson Plains. A Kang Tao convoy's coming through. We're planning to hit it clean. I want the Aldecaldos in on it."

The voice on the other end was rough, skeptical. "Who's we?"

"Me," Panam said. "Neo—and his friend, Takemura Goro."

There was a pause. Then Saul's tone changed completely. "That Neo?"

Panam smiled faintly. "Yeah. That one."

"…We'll be there before sunrise."

When the call ended, she turned to Neo. "Saul's on his way. Says they'll make it in time."

Neo nodded. "Good. Then we wait."

He leaned back against the wall, eyes thoughtful.

The truth was, this wasn't about generosity. It was about investment.

In a city built on corporate greed and cybernetic ambition, the Aldecaldos were one of the few groups that still lived by principle. They fought, they traded, they wandered—but they remembered loyalty.

Neo saw something worth building in that.

Night City could be burned and rebuilt a hundred times, but the rot always came back. Killing CEOs and legends wasn't enough. If the world was to heal, it needed roots—people who still believed in something real.

Supporting the Aldecaldos wasn't charity. It was strategy.

A step toward something larger than one man or one crew.

And deep down, he also knew—no matter how far Panam had run, her heart was still with the clan.

Better to help her find her way back, than let her drift alone forever.