After his cyberware adjustments were complete, David returned to Maine's crew. He still held a deep respect for the boss who had first set him on this path.
Arthur and Jackie also learned about David's mother. Arthur sighed at the news, struck by how unbelievable the coincidence was.
The next few days, Arthur and Jackie spent their time burning through money.
And spending money was pure bliss. At the entrance of Vik's clinic, Arthur finally laid eyes on the motorcycle Jackie had been obsessing over.
ARCH Nazaré.
A road bike with a streamlined body, red-and-black paint, and a low, aggressive riding stance.
Watching Jackie plant one foot on the ground and strike a flashy pose, something deep inside Arthur stirred.
"The bike's definitely slick, but with you on it, it looks like an elephant riding a hippo."
Arthur's sharp tongue always carried a grain of truth—Jackie's thigh alone was nearly as wide as the bike itself.
"I really shouldn't have come to you."
Even Jackie's usually easygoing temper cracked. His face fell as he looked at Arthur with wounded resentment.
"How's your cyberware installation coming along? Did Vik recommend anything?"
"Nope. So I bought a gun instead."
Arthur waved his hand, motioning Jackie to follow him.
Inside Vik's clinic, on the long-vacant cyberware repair machine, lay a massive weapon.
It was nearly two meters long, painted jet-black except for the yellow magazine embedded beneath the receiver.
Its barrel assembly was intricate: a slender electronic module running the length of the barrel, packed with dense circuit clusters, topped with an electromagnetic rail, and flanked by three pairs of magnetic field generators.
The entire weapon was angular and sharp, like it had been carved out with a blade. Even the sight, which had once been cylindrical, was now encased in black housing, reshaped into a rectangle.
"Holy shit. Where the hell did you get this thing?"
The moment Jackie stepped through the door, his eyes locked onto the rifle and refused to look away.
"You know how rare this is? The Tsunami crew guard it like it's their baby."
Tsunami Nekomata sniper rifle.
Yes—this was Tsunami Defense Systems' masterpiece, the finest sniper rifle in the world, bar none.
It embodied all of Tsunami's cutting-edge tech: electromagnetic systems, gas correction, multi-stage bullet acceleration, and smart modules.
When Tsunami designed this rifle, they poured every piece of technology they had into it.
And in the high-end firearms market, Tsunami Defense Systems was the undisputed leader.
"The smart module on this Nekomata's damaged. Even so, I still had to pay over a hundred thousand to get it."
Dozens of cables ran between the weapon and the workbench. On the adjacent monitor, a progress bar kept refreshing.
The rifle captivated Arthur the moment he saw it—and its power matched its intimidating presence.
Noticing them enter, Vik walked over and pointed at the screen.
"The physical structure's intact. It's just the internal smart programs that are faulty—that's why I could tinker with it. But be careful when you use it. Every component, especially in the electromagnetic module, can't be replaced."
He gestured toward the magnetic field block on the side of the barrel.
"Like these—deliberately engineered magnetic field layouts. Even a single dent can throw the whole system into chaos."
"Looks like a delicate little girl, Arthur. You'll have to take good care of her."
Jackie laughed, his eyes glued to the weapon like he really was staring at a girl.
"A little girl? This thing can punch through three lined-up Basilisk tanks with a single shot. You're calling that a little girl?"
Vik chuckled at Jackie's remark and continued.
"By the way, there's a decent variety of compatible ammo—tungsten rounds, APDS (Armor-Piercing Discarding Sabot). Standard stuff, easy to find at any gun shop.
But there are also two specialized types designed by Tsunami specifically for the Nekomata—
Multi-stage accelerated rounds. With those, the Nekomata can hit targets nine to fifteen kilometers out.
And then there's the 'Nekomata Pupil,' a micro-missile. It can track targets, but only works properly at long range."
As he explained, Vik tossed Arthur a data shard.
"Go over this carefully. The Nekomata isn't easy to handle."
Arthur shrugged, examining the jet-black sniper rifle before catching the shard.
"No rush. Honestly, it won't see much use."
It was too big, too temperamental. But its devastating power made the flaws worth it.
...
After inspecting the rifle, Arthur and Vik shifted their focus to Biotechnica.
The chip taken from the Tyger Claws didn't mark the lab directly, but from the transport routes it showed, Arthur and Jackie pieced together a lot.
Those three vials of reagent had been taken from a Maelstrom base called Diman Slaughterhouse. They had originally been destined for shipment to the Badlands.
This tied into one of Biotechnica's core businesses—CHOOH².
CHOOH² was one of Biotechnica's pillar industries, a synthetic fuel replacing the world's dwindling petroleum.
Biotechnica had licensed Petrochem to handle all aspects of its cultivation and production, taking only massive patent fees in return.
But Biotechnica never entrusted everything to Petrochem. Under the excuse of "self-use," they had secretly set up their own CHOOH² farm in the Badlands east of Night City.
According to the chip, the results of live experiments were all being sent there.
"Looks like Biotechnica's CHOOH² farm isn't just about messing with Petrochem."
Jackie shook his head as the picture became clear.
CHOOH² might have changed the world, but the tech wasn't that hard to copy. Biotechnica's advantage lay only in patents, not in any real technological barriers.
When they signed with Petrochem, Biotechnica wasn't the global giant it is now. Their cut from the deal hadn't been great.
So, as Biotechnica grew, so did their dissatisfaction. Openly and secretly, they started undermining their "partners."
That hidden farm was one such move. From there, they leaked CHOOH² fuel far below market value, hitting Petrochem's monopoly hard.
"We're going after that farm? Sounds like suicide."
Jackie's tone was grim as he looked at Arthur, searching his eyes.
"Of course not. That farm's locked down tight. Even Petrochem can't touch it. Why would we go get ourselves killed?"
Arthur pointed at the slaughterhouse and its related outposts that transported people for it.
"We'll hit these instead. And I won't hide it—I've got a personal stake.
It seems my body was subjected to some kind of experiment too. That's why Vik advised against any major neural implant procedures.
Going after them also means finding out what happened to me.
So… are you still willing to take the risk?"
Jackie glared at him, irritation written all over his face.
"Somos hermanos—we're brothers! If you're in trouble, then I'm in too!"
He clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur said nothing—he didn't need to.
The two began mapping out their plan.
The slaughterhouse was likely a hub for the experiments, meaning its defenses would be heavy.
Their approach: raid an outpost first, then use its supply route for live subjects as cover to infiltrate the slaughterhouse.
The mission—find the data, and kill every bastard behind the experiments.
They had considered going public, but countless failed attempts had taught them better.
Just look at Sasha a year ago—
Branded a terrorist, her life destroyed, and everything connected to her ruined.
And the evidence she died to expose—Biotechnica's latest drug side effects—nobody cared.
There were only a handful of pharma corporations. Refuse their drugs, and you were left to die.
The media and the corps wore the same pants. No—they were the same thing. Ordinary people didn't stand a chance of making a ripple.