"Things aren't that simple..."
Jackie frowned, scratching the back of his head.
"The thing is, the Animals aren't united. These guys spend all day trying to shove their fists down somebody else's throat.
They don't trust anyone outside their little cliques—even if they're all technically Animals."
As a born-and-bred Streetkid, Jackie knew Night City's gangs inside and out.
Heywood was one of the main hubs of the city's underworld.
That was why it produced so many fixers.
"Come on, Jackie.
At the very least, we should cash in. Changing targets doesn't matter much... right?
And hell, this one might even pay better."
Arthur waved him on and started toward the abandoned paint factory ahead.
As they got closer, Arthur noticed two shabby iron side doors flanking the massive steel gate.
From the exposed wall sections, it was clear those doors had been added later.
"We're just walking in?
The Fixer's intel was detailed. This place is full of holes—we could've snuck inside."
Jackie followed, his hands instinctively brushing the pistols at his waist.
"Relax. We're not here to steal."
Arthur pressed himself against one of the small doors and pushed it open a crack.
Silence pooled inside, heavy with darkness. The faint glow deeper in barely gave any light.
As the crack widened, a thin beam caught the dust drifting in the air, finally revealing the interior.
A few battered paint buckets sat piled in the corner. The uneven dust on the floor made it clear people walked this path often.
Deeper still, faint vibrations pulsed—loud music, shaking the walls.
They'd barely taken a few steps before spotting several kids crouched near a sturdier door.
Light flickered from a narrow glass pane above it.
The boys noticed them almost instantly.
"Who the hell are you? Stop right there! What do you think you're doing?
This is Animals turf!"
The one who shouted looked like their leader, springing to his feet and glaring at them.
"Cute. They've got kids guarding the gate."
Jackie muttered.
Arthur raised a hand, stepping forward slowly, eyes scanning the surroundings.
"Oh... it's alright. See? We mean no harm."
When he raised both hands openly, the boys eased a little—but suspicion lingered in their eyes.
"We don't welcome outsiders..."
One leaned forward and spat the words, his voice sharp with hostility.
The Animals, fully aware of their shortcomings, solved problems by walling themselves off.
They hated socializing, usually staying silent and withdrawn—qualities, oddly enough, valued in bodyguards.
Arthur frowned. He hated dealing with loudmouthed brats.
He gestured toward the door behind them.
"Move it! Go get the grown-ups.
We've got business."
The leader, sporting an exaggerated hairstyle, scowled and crossed his arms.
"Get someone? No need!
Damn outsider pigs—this isn't your place, and we won't deal with you.
Go on, scram back where you came from... unless you're dying to taste our fists."
He raised his arms like a boxer, cocky as hell.
Arthur looked down at the kid squaring up to him—the top of his head barely reached Arthur's chest.
No wonder Jackie got pissed at being mistaken for an Animal.
They really weren't the brightest bunch.
Arthur stepped forward, grabbed the kid by the scruff, and hauled him into the air.
The move sent the rest of the boys scattering in panic.
The one in his grip went quiet instantly, head tucking down like a quail.
"Go on! Fetch someone, or I'll pluck this brat bald."
Arthur raised his hand, pretending to snip at the boy's spiky hair. The kid scrambled to cover his head, eyes wide with panic.
Two of the sharper ones bolted, ducking through the heavy door behind them.
Arthur shrugged and dropped the brat back on his feet. He and Jackie waited.
It didn't take long before heavy footsteps thudded from within—someone big was coming.
Clang!
The iron door crashed open, slamming against the walls like crushed weeds.
A hulking figure filled the frame, blocking out everything behind her.
In the dim light, her hair was a wild, tangled mess, her ragged appearance like some savage beast.
"Oh? A little lamb?
So you're the one making noise about seeing someone.
Spit it out—if you've got no good reason, I'll twist your pretty head clean off."
Arthur blinked. A woman.
Her voice was coarse, but the feminine undertone was there.
Well, this was... the future alright.
He instinctively stepped back—not because her size intimidated him, but because he honestly couldn't stomach women built like that.
Damn. He liked to think of himself as an open-minded "old-timer," someone who could adapt to this world just fine.
But men who looked fragile as glass... and women built like fortresses?
That was still a lot to take in.
Maybe growing "old" had its perks.
Shaking his head to clear the thought, Arthur forced himself to stay cool and looked her in the eye.
Between the two extremes, he decided he'd take the iron tower of a woman any day.
"A few days back, you snatched something from the corps.
We're here to talk about it. Just talk—no trouble."
Arthur kept it direct.
From inside, heavy bass thumped through the doorway.
Her bulk practically pushed the frame to its limits.
"Goods? What goods?
Be specific, you bastard. We've grabbed so much lately, how the fuck are we supposed to know which ones you mean?"
Her tone fit her perfectly—each word rumbling the dust on the ground.
"Tuesday. Marked with Biotechnica's logo.
But they belonged to Militech."
"Whose?"
She barked out a laugh, deep and booming, like she'd just heard the funniest thing.
"Doesn't matter. Once it lands here, it's ours!"
She laughed a while longer, then scratched her broad forehead and called back into the factory.
"Hey—you know what this is about?"
Clearly, she had no idea what Arthur meant.
"If I'm not mistaken, it was a truckload of scrap. Worthless junk."
The reply came low, but loud enough to echo through the space.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser