Listening to Jackie, Arthur glanced back over his shoulder.
The highway stretched high above the ground, the road ahead spiraling sharply downward.
Jackie wrestled the wheel in wide, desperate turns, struggling to keep the car from spinning out. The front axle groaned under the strain, metal screeching in protest.
In one smooth motion, Arthur leaned out with the Revolver, aiming at the pursuers.
A heartbeat later, spiderweb cracks spread across the windshield of one of the chasing cars. Crimson sprayed across the back seats behind the drivers.
"These guys aren't as tough as you made them out to be, huh?
They're no better than those Tyger Claws punks!"
Arthur muttered, ducking back in to reload.
"Voodoo Boys netrunners are the real deal. They can hold their own against NetWatch."
Jackie's eyes stayed locked on the road, barely blinking. Controlling the car on this stretch demanded everything he had.
"Don't worry!"
Just then, Jessica's voice came through the private LAN—soft, steady, but strained.
"I've blocked their netrunners..."
Her words trailed off. She was clearly struggling, but she held the line.
The chase fizzled once they dropped back to ground level. The remaining cars peeled away reluctantly.
Now they were in a ravine. Looking back, only the tops of skyscrapers rose above the distance.
Arthur slid the Revolver back to his hip, resting both hands on his belt as he tilted his head back.
"Good.
Looks like our hospitable friends decided to let us walk.
At least they know skulls don't beat bullets."
The brim of his hat caught the sunlight, throwing his eyes into shadow as he watched the retreating cars.
Behind him, Jackie shoved his door open and bent low over the smoking engine. White fumes curled upward, and fluid dripped steadily onto the dirt.
"Eso es todo... That's it. Misty's car is toast."
Jackie scratched the back of his head with a grimace.
"Relax... as long as you make it back in one piece, she'll be happy."
Arthur scanned the area, saw no immediate threat, and pulled the big man upright.
Down here, it was worse than above. Patches of bare earth split the road, yellow grass pushing through. Buildings stood like broken husks, jagged steel beams jutting out like bones. Compared to the crowded streets overhead, this place felt abandoned.
"Looks like... our client's not doing so hot."
Jackie wiped oil from his hands after poking around the broken hydraulics. Only then did he take in the view, his tone heavy.
"They can't outthink the Voodoo Boys—never could.
Still, their lack of brains has its perks.
Plenty of folks in Night City hire Animals for muscle or security."
The Animals crew from the mission was holed up nearby, inside an abandoned paint factory.
It blended almost perfectly with the ruins, so desolate it gave no sign of the gang inside. Sloppy graffiti covered the walls, half-hidden by weeds whipping in the wind.
"Do we really need to keep helping that corpo dog? That bastard nearly got us killed.
Two-faced bastard."
Jackie growled, keeping his voice low as he glared at the factory.
Sure, the clash had been started by the Voodoo Boys—but the employer was the real culprit.
He'd paid them and then treated Arthur and Jackie like property, selling them out to the Haitians to secure his mission's success.
Everyone knew the Voodoo Boys. A gang built on netrunners, masters of the shadows.
And every street kid knew outsiders were nothing but disposable tools to them. They showed no mercy—especially not to outsiders.
...
Arthur's Neural Link chimed with an incoming call.
"Ding—ding—"
Daino's green crew cut bobbed on the screen as he leaned in.
"Arthur, my friend.
Glad to see you in one piece—I was worried sick."
His black shades hid most of his face, but the urgency in his voice felt real. He clearly knew what had just gone down—no surprise for a fixer with reach in City Center.
"Not exactly a pleasant experience.
But I've learned one thing—no job runs smooth forever."
Arthur's gaze drifted to the shuttered factory gate ahead. He knew the client was behind this mess—at least on the surface.
"The client screwed up, so I'll take responsibility.
Forget the job. I'll pay the full fee out of my own pocket.
How about it?"
Arthur kept his eyes on the crude graffiti sprayed across the gate: balloon-limbed stick figures, grinning wide.
Step inside, and things could spiral out of control fast.
And yet... staring at those grotesque smiles, Arthur's steps slowed. He didn't turn back.
"That guy's being so damn sneaky... must be deep in trouble, huh?"
Daino caught his meaning instantly. Smiling, he pointed at Arthur through the screen.
"Friend, you guessed it. Not everyone tied to the corps has power. And our cunning little employer has been struggling lately."
He stroked his chin, tilting his head like he was weighing options.
"Tell you what—I'll work some contacts. Odds are good I can make this play out in your favor.
Focus on your part, and wait for my good news."
The call ended. Arthur adjusted his hat and shifted his attention back.
Jackie had been waiting the whole time. As soon as Arthur looked up, he barked, impatient.
"So? What's the call? We dealing with that bastard or not?"
Without realizing it, Arthur had become the one everyone looked to for answers. The leader of their little crew.
Hand on his hat brim, he tilted it to a comfortable angle and started forward.
Sunlight and grit slipped past the brim, but most of it stayed out of his eyes.
"We'll go in and take a look. Doesn't have to mean a fight, right?
This is your chance to show off that sharp brain of yours—
and that body you've been toughening up.
They'll take you for one of their own..."