Arthur was pleased with how the job had turned out. Both the way it was handled and the Fixer behind it were solid, sparing him a lot of trouble.
But his seasoned instincts also saw the cracks: if the Fixer's intel turned out wrong—or even just missed one crucial detail—it could put mercs in serious danger.
Then again, that was the nature of intelligence work. Mistakes were inevitable.
His next stop was Vik's clinic. The Shard's data was a scrambled mess, and if anyone could make sense of it, it was Vik.
Riding the monorail toward Watson District's Little China, Arthur found himself thinking of his old gang.
But times had changed—people didn't ride horses anymore. He'd heard they'd become luxury items for the rich.
Lost in thought as he stared out the window, a strange sensation suddenly prickled at his back.
His arm shot back like lightning, clamping down on a wrist that had crept too close.
Arthur's first impression was how slender it was—likely a woman's.
"What do you want?"
The wrist twitched, trying to pull free, but once it felt Arthur's grip, the struggle stopped.
Turning around, Arthur first caught sight of pale pink hair.
The girl's face was delicate, a mix of Western sharpness and Asian refinement.
At first, Lucy wasn't too afraid. With her looks, she usually found it easy to get out of trouble.
But when her eyes met Arthur's, her heart skipped—
Those blue eyes seemed to hold a crimson world within, steeped in death.
Anything caught in them would be trapped—helpless prey.
"I... just...
Sir, there's a bug on your back."
She instinctively broke eye contact, glancing instead at his hat.
Hmm—quite the vintage style.
"A bug? You mean yourself, little girl?"
Arthur brushed a hand over the chip slots at the back of his neck—empty, as always.
Then he checked his pocket. The Cyberpsycho's Shard was still there, safe.
Satisfied nothing was missing, Arthur was about to release her when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a young man with a buzz cut at the far end of the carriage.
The boy's face tensed instantly when he saw Arthur gripping Lucy's wrist.
In the blink of an eye, he launched himself forward at inhuman speed.
Arthur's eyes were sharp enough to follow an eagle mid-flight, yet even he barely caught the blur of motion.
Instinct took over. Arthur thrust out a hand, sharply focused, cutting off the attack mid-charge.
The kid was raw and inexperienced—Arthur easily pinned him by the throat, stopping him cold.
Watching the boy thrash in his grip, Arthur's brow furrowed.
As one of the best gunslingers alive, he knew the feeling of heightened focus, of perception beyond normal limits.
This kid didn't have it.
"Your speed... what's going on?"
Arthur's hoarse voice pressed him.
"And what about you? How the hell could you see me move?"
Ever since he'd installed the Sandevistan, David's accelerated field had made him arrogant. In that sped-up world, everyone else seemed frozen—yet this man had grabbed him like it was nothing.
"Kid, your neck's still in my hand. I ask first. Got it?"
Seeing how young he was, Arthur let his patience hold—he didn't punch first this time.
"I... I've got cyberware.
Can you let go?"
The boy flailed helplessly. To Arthur, it was clear—just a pair of petty thieves.
The scene even reminded him of a bitter memory from Saint Denis.
Arthur freed his hand long enough to smack the back of the kid's head before finally letting him go.
"Scram."
For some reason, Arthur reached out and ruffled the boy's hair. His stubborn strands stuck straight up, defying gravity. Arthur couldn't figure how it even stayed like that.
"You... how'd you keep up with me?"
Sensing Arthur bore no malice, the kid didn't leave. Instead, he stared at Arthur curiously.
The innocence in his eyes was impossible to hide.
"Decades of practice... and a little talent."
Of course, the talent part mattered most. Arthur kept that thought to himself.
"But you don't look that old."
The boy muttered.
True enough. Arthur looked no older than his early twenties.
Arthur kicked him square in the backside, sending him stumbling forward. His gravelly voice turned impatient.
"Enough questions. Get lost."
"What's your name, then?"
The boy clutched his rear but didn't take the hint.
Finding him tolerable enough, Arthur gave him an answer.
"Arthur Morgan."
"Cool name. You must be an Edgerunner too.
Oh, I'm David Martinez. Mind if I add you?"
A contact request popped up before Arthur. He accepted just as the monorail pulled into Little China, then left without another word.
...
"The chip itself isn't cheap. And the data it carries? Priceless."
Vik's clinic was as dim as ever. Under the cold blue glow, he examined the exported readings.
The Shard lay nearby, cables feeding into it like mechanical vines.
"That guy was over eighty percent chrome. No wonder he snapped."
Arthur leaned against the wall, watching the streams of incomprehensible data scroll by.
"What's it even good for?"
"This chip logs the functions of every piece of that psycho's cyberware. Here—look. His name was James Willis. You probably saw him in the news. Couple weeks ago, he killed thirty people at City Hall.
I'd bet he was some corp's lab rat. They're panicking now, no doubt."
Vik's eyes darted across the data, fully absorbed.
"So the corps want it? Can you find me a buyer?"
Arthur's head throbbed from staring at the wall of tiny text. He had no idea what it was worth. If it brought in some cash, fine by him.
"I'll take it!
This data's straight from cutting-edge cyberware—even corp-internal specs. It's invaluable to me."
Arthur stroked his chin without hesitation.
"If you want it, take it. I've got no contacts, and I can't even read the damn thing."
"Then it'll cover your debt."
Arthur shook his head. Even valuable, it wasn't worth that much. And he wasn't one to take advantage.
"Vik, don't drag money into friendship. I've never left a debt unpaid."
"Fine."
Vik paused the readout, turned, and clapped Arthur on the shoulder.
"You don't get it—this data's worth a fortune. Here's the deal: pay me back twenty grand, and the rest we'll call even."
Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Vik thumped a fist against his chest.
"Quit fussing. It's settled."
"Alright. But Vik, one more thing—I need a place to stay. Got a suggestion?"
Vik tilted his head, thinking.
"Guess you're still broke. Stick around Watson District for now."
Arthur, who'd survived over twenty years in the wilderness, wasn't picky about living conditions.
"As long as it's convenient, I don't care."
Little China. One of those megabuildings—with an open atrium. Nice spot, feels lived-in. Check it out.
Arthur knew the place. The towers loomed like a barrier between Night City and the Northside Industrial District.
The rent was cheap—perfect for him.
"I'll give it a shot. See you, Vik."
Just outside the clinic, the row of megabuildings loomed. Arthur headed straight for them.
The Atrium had plenty of vacancies—small, single apartments, fully furnished, with even a dedicated room for weapons.
One thing was clear: security here was loose.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser