Valentinos

"I can't believe you are doing this to me, mijo!" my mother screamed as I pulled on my boots to go out for the evening, "Tell him Jaquito! Tell him exactly what he is doing!"

"Chill Mama." My only surviving brother raised his hands in a physical attempt to push down her spiking anger, "I talked with Gus already, he said that Juan won't be doing any of the dangerous stuff. They really want him working the chop shops. Easy eddies for a guy as good with a socket set as him."

"And I'm supposed to believe that? When the whole neighborhood talks about how good Juanito is with his guns and his fists? He'll be a thug, just like you, just like your brothers, just like your father." Mama Welles growled as she yanked Jackie's collar down to get in his face.

"That's low Mama." Jackie hissed with a pained expression.

Mama released him and slumped with her face in her hands, silently agreeing in full about the lowness of comparing her sons to her abusive husband.

"Please, mijo." she sobbed, "Please, you are so smart, so bright. You can do anything you put your mind to. Please don't do this."

"I'm sorry this hurts you mama." I said as I came over to her side and rubbed her lower back, "This is the way I'm going."

Mama renewed her sobs and I delta'd out with that soundtrack playing in my ears.

"She's right, Juan." Jackie said as he came out and shut the door behind him, "You are way smarter than the rest of us put together. You don't need the gang."

I looked my brother in the eyes, mostly to ignore his stupid hair cut that he'll still be sporting in 2077 like the Samurai fanboy he is. Unfortunately for my family's anxiety levels, I do in fact need the Valentinos. Running with the second biggest gang in the city opens a lot of doors quickly, as even the most promising of Solos are regarded as loons that'll soon disappear into the belly of the beast that is Night City until they've pulled off some pretty major shit. Even then they are disposable tools, easily used, abused, and fucked over.

Being a Valentino comes with its own bag of enemies and drawbacks, but it is a real bad idea to stiff a guy with over 6000 homeboys just dying for a chance to violently let off some steam. And it's not like the bag of enemies wouldn't be hostile even if you don't wear the red and gold. The gangs that beef with the Valentinos are all assholes, and being a banger doesn't get you in any more or less trouble with the cops in this place. The NCPD are the biggest gang on the streets and they fuck with everybody, even each other. It's actually better to be dressed up as a Valentino when dealing with the cops because at least then they assume you are wise to their bullshit and have a dozen armed homies sitting in your nearby sedan.

So I just smiled and patted Jackie on his bare shoulder. Night City in May is a real scorcher and the Welles boys definitely subscribe to the whole suns out guns out vibe. No sky's out thigh's out though. Its pants for us. Always.

"Alright hermano, let's go see Gus." he half smiled back and the pair of us moved down the alley to my garage and loaded up into my teal Thorton Mackinaw crew cab. Its a big truck capable of sustaining a traveling merchant or a barrio mechanic, and let's face it. Most of the vehicles V got to drive around in the game don't have enough space to fit my wide ass, a gallon of gas, and my dangling nuts. I'd have to lose at least one of those to fit into a Quartz or a Maimai.

"Guantanamera!" I sang as the music came on loud and proud.

"God, you are such a walking stereotype." Jackie sighed as we hit the streets on route to the bar.

"And that's the real reason you had to leave the Valentinos, Jackie. You just don't have the Chicano deep in your soul." I shook my hips and shoulders as I kept the wheel steady.

Jackie opened his mouth as if to rebut my claim, but then smiled and laughed, "The constant Mariachi was starting to drive me insane."

"Your rocker scene might have a lot of girls, but man three quarters of them are strung out little twigs. The best girls are down at the salon shaking their hips the way God intended. To the sound of the violins and trumpets and a guitar or two." I announced loudly, speaking with my chest like usual.

We pulled into the parking lot for the cantina, a bar that serves men only and in this case only Valentinos. Jackie winced as we approached the door and already heard the Mariachi blaring.

"It's like they knew I was coming…" he muttered as he pushed open the door.

"Jackie!" shouted Gustavo Orta, one of the men Jackie came up with during his brief stay in the gang and still a good friend after the split.

Gus was one hundred percent Valentino to the bone and a ruthless bastard that came down like a cattle stampede on everyone that wrongs the gang. He was on the way up for far more than being the big boss's great nephew. His work as an enforcer keeps people up at night for sure. Probably not him though. Bet that guy sleeps just fine.

"Gus!" Jackie shouted back as the man stood up from his table and the two stomped over to each other shaking hands and slapping shoulders.

"And there's Big Juan!" Gus grinned under is developing mustache and put his hand out for me to shake.

Gus looked down at how his gold plated hand disappeared in my meat mitt and his eyes widened, "For the love of blessed Maria, those hands can give a man a complex. I swear those fingers are almost as big as my dick!"

"Don't remind me, ese!" Jackie howled in laughter at the comment, "My poor eyes have seen too much over the years."

"I've heard. Definitely can't put him in charge of the girls, not unless he's bankrolling the brothel!" Gus laughed as well.

"Just give me a few years. I'll get there." I grinned causing both men to laugh harder.

"That's the spirit nino! Work hard and you too can lounge your days away in luxury with the working girls." Gus validated then turned back to his table where an older man sat across from three guys my age all looking to join up tonight, "My friends, this is Manny Vargas." he introduced the older man with a wave of his hand, "He runs our biggest chop shop. Big Juan and the boys will get their feet wet working for him either in the shop or in acquisitions."

Manny looked like a slightly less pockmarked George Lopez. The man stared at me like someone trying to take my measure, but failed to come across as the stereotypical see-right-through-you mentor.

"I hear your God's gift with a wrench." the man with a greying goatee around his mouth intoned like he wasn't impressed by what he saw, "You and Juanito here will come by the shop tomorrow at seven. You'll work until you finish the quota. I don't care how long it takes you, but if you don't finish you'll be on the streets kleping with Jose and Pedro."

"There's nothing ito about me." Small Juan barked, almost reminding me of chihuahuas.

Those little rat dogs didn't have what it takes like actual rats to survive till 2077. At least I'd never seen one. Who knows what the Corpos have hidden away. Probobly a secret chihuahua ranch were they strangle the little things after a grueling day fucking people over at the office.

"You may not be a little guy, but you ain't that." Manny gestured to me over his plate of ceviche, "From now on you're Small Juan, and be grateful that I haven't known you long enough to come up with a worse nickname."

The rest of the evening was spent drinking and eating with our superiors in the gang, a damn fine initiation if you ask me, none of that jump in bullshit. The Valentinos are strict as hell in their conduct - everything codified over a century - but at the end of the day they are still about the core values of protecting the barrio and providing justice and security were the cops can't be bothered. A real far cry from their roots as a gang of playboys out to seduce the fine bitches of Night City.

Shame that. I'd be the big boss by the end of the year if that was still the case.

As a newly minted gangster, the working level membership, I picked up a full level and a half of Street Cred when Jackie and I stepped out to go home. Almost enough to get to the next level. I dumped the skill points into Repair to show Manny that I really am God's gift with a wrench and picked up the Gunslinger perk. Since VATS isn't a base mechanic for me it was just a flat 25 percent accuracy boost for me with single handed guns.

Considering I hadn't missed a shot at the firing range in over six months that boost is damn near supernatural. Which works out just fine for me as I really want to be able to use both the revolvers at my hips at once like a proper action movie star. How'd he aim both his guns with out even looking down either of him? He's Big Juan that's how!

I patted the hood of my truck in a good mood and as a kind gesture to my brother I let him work the radio on the way home.

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Name: 'Big' Juan D. Welles

Level: 8

NEW SKILLS

Repair: 94

NEW PERKS

Gunslinger

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I think the format for this story for a while is going to be a chapter or two detailing Juan's work for the Valentinos. Followed by some personal enterprises and some character interaction chapters. And then bounce him to a different part of the Valentinos operations there wiki states that they are involved in "gun smuggling, car theft, drug trafficking, robbery, burglary, hit jobs (including assault or murder), prostitution, and illegal modification of weapons and vehicles" and I want Big Juan to do a little of all of it (pimping in his case not prostitution). I'll reaserch each type of crimial enterprise to give you all the best view of it, but don't hold me to any of the details as I don't actually go out out and do outlaw shit.

'Damn it, JManM's illegal business model that we copied from his fanfic didn't work. The cops are onto us!'

'Quickly! Review bomb his story for leading us astray!'

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