"It really wasn't me. Him... the one slumped over the console—he's the boss."
The man's knees were shattered, leaving him collapsed on the floor, helpless. Still, he raised a trembling hand, pointing at a corpse.
Arthur followed his finger. A figure in a bright green Jackie et lay sprawled across a microterminal, smoke curling from the bullet hole in his head.
"Forget it. That doesn't matter.
Now talk—where's Biotechnica's stash?"
Arthur pressed the barrel of his gun to the man's temple, his voice cold as steel.
"In the safe, over there in the corner. The code's 9021. It's a white metal case.
That's everything I know. Please... let me live."
The words tumbled out in a rush, his face twisted into a sycophantic grin.
Arthur, cautious as ever, dragged him up and threw him against the safe.
"Open it. Take it out."
He and Jackie stepped back, keeping their distance.
It went smoothly—he opened the safe without hesitation and pulled out a silver-white briefcase.
Once they were sure he hadn't slipped a weapon, Arthur and Jackie moved in. Jackie grabbed the case and compared it to Padre's intel.
"No problem—it's the one. Three hundred grand!
This went so smooth it's unreal. I almost feel bad taking the money."
He flipped through the contents, then nodded in satisfaction.
"No idea what David's crew pulled, but it sure worked out for us."
Arthur grinned, taking the case from Jackie . He planned to check it over, just in case it had trackers or worse.
As he shifted it, the case clicked open. Inside were three vials of transparent reagent and a chip of unknown purpose.
Arthur kicked the corpse off the terminal and slotted the chip inside. As the data bar began to crawl across the screen, he glanced at the Tyger Claws thug huddled in the corner.
"How'd you get this? Far as I know, the Tyger Claws don't make a business out of robbing corporations."
"We lifted it from Maelstrom. No way we'd have the guts to cross a corp."
The guy still spilled everything, desperate to appease.
"You mean those lunatics who rip themselves apart and patch in junkyard cyberware?
Looks like those rats are in bed with the corporations after all."
Jackie muttered with contempt.
The chip finished loading. Arthur opened the files, and his expression darkened with every line.
"Fucking bastards."
His hoarse voice trembled with fury barely contained.
"What is it? What's in there?" Jackie asked, noticing the change in his tone.
"See for yourself."
The chip contained an experimental log—records of human trials with those three serums.
Each vial represented multiple lives lost.
Biotechnica had been conducting live experiments using the Vortex Gang and Scavengers.
"Hijo de... those Biotechnica dogs. They're nothing but animals."
Arthur's rage surged. He thought of the unknown substance inside his own body—now almost certain to be one of Biotechnica's trial drugs.
He let out a slow breath and pulled the chip from the terminal.
"We're done here, Jackie."
He packed the briefcase, then fired a round over his shoulder without looking—putting down the only witness—before walking out. The man had seen their faces. There was no reason to let him live.
...
By the time Arthur connected with Lucy through the neural link, he and Jackie were already back in the car.
"What's the situation?"
"Just now, a Tyger Claws squad went in. But I left something when I hacked the elevator—they won't be able to use it right away. You've got maybe five minutes."
That was enough, but there was no time to waste. They quickly found the entrance to the ventilation shaft and climbed inside.
The duct was wide—half a body across—with the ventilation system humming. The air stank of alcohol.
Soon they reached an upward shaft. Bracing against the walls, they pushed themselves up inch by inch.
The exit led into a restroom. They dropped down to the floor.
By then, more than five minutes had passed. Climbing through the vent had cost them precious time.
Outside, chaos erupted. Arthur caught a crucial detail in the noise.
"Quick! The guys downstairs said no one's there—they must've crawled out the vents!"
At least a dozen men, judging by the voices. The bathroom was tight with no cover—a death trap if they fought there.
Arthur reacted instantly. He pulled a bullet from his pocket, weighed it in his palm, and hurled it at the ceiling light.
The cheap bulb shattered, plunging the restroom into darkness.
He grabbed Jackie, and they pressed against the wall beside the door, waiting silently.
With a loud bang, the door burst open, and a wave of men stormed in.
"Where's the light? Damn it, don't step on me!"
"Who's there?!"
"Me! It's me, dumbass!"
"I wasn't talking about you—I meant those two."
"What two?"
Confused, they turned to where the man was pointing.
Through the open doorway, under the weak corridor light, two figures were walking away calmly, backs turned.
"Fuck! Enemies! Get them—don't let them escape!"
But before he finished, the two figures had already broken into a run, vanishing around the corner.
The room froze for a second, then exploded with furious shouts and pounding footsteps.
"These clowns never shut up. What the hell are they even saying? Some kind of gibberish?"
Even while fleeing, Jackie couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Sounds like animals screeching."
I don't understand a word, but I bet they're wishing us long life—or maybe a jackpot."
Arthur's look of disgust made it clear his contempt was aimed at the howling Tyger Claws behind them.
By the time the gang spotted them again, Arthur and Jackie were already at the nightclub entrance. They dropped two guards with quick shots and bolted outside.
Lucy's voice echoed in Arthur's head.
"Head east. The car's ready."
It was late at night. Most of the revelers had already packed into the shops and bars, but stragglers still lingered on the streets.
After sprinting east for a few hundred meters, Arthur spotted the car Jackie had boosted off the overpass.
The rear door was wide open, the engine humming.
David sat in the driver's seat, yelling and waving them over.
Arthur dove inside, slammed the door, and pounded the back of David's seat.
"Go! The Tyger Claws won't be easy to shake."
As if on cue, a Claw member burst out from the nightclub direction, pointing at them.
"There! They got in that car—don't let them get away!"
The words had barely left his mouth when the roar of motorcycle engines filled the night, like a herd of enraged bulls.
"Hold on!" David bellowed.
Without lifting off the throttle, he slammed the gearshift. Tires screeched, smoke billowed, and the car launched forward.
This was Japantown—narrow streets and insane twists.
Ahead, a massive building loomed, rushing closer.
Even Arthur, hardened as he was, felt sweat bead on his neck.
"You kid... do you even know how to drive—"
Before he could finish, David wrenched the wheel hard right.
The car jolted violently, the rear end lifting clear off the ground, nearly flipping.
But the front tire clung to the asphalt like an anchor. The car spun like a compass on that single wheel, then slammed back down with bone-jarring force.