Time wasn't worth much—at least not for those with no work to do.
The next day, Arthur woke at the same hour as he had for weeks. When he opened his eyes, the sun no longer felt as cold and empty as it did at dawn.
But this time, he was waking in the new base. The walls still had patches of peeling plaster, but at least the place didn't let in drafts.
Outside, the sharp crack of gunfire rang out. He figured it had to be Rebecca, that little firecracker with way too much energy.
A few minutes later, Arthur stepped into the sunlight, half-squinting, and spotted the two bouncing pink-and-green braids in the courtyard.
She was firing with all her might, but the bottles lined up opposite her barely moved.
"Haha, maybe you should try aiming at something bigger," a cheerful laugh called from the doorway. V was sitting there, clearly enjoying the show.
"Shut up!!"
Rebecca snarled, baring her teeth.
"Ugly hag, shut your mouth!"
Unfortunately for her, V was under no illusions about her looks and wasn't the type to get offended over a cheap insult.
She noticed Arthur stepping out from behind her, turned back, and shrugged indifferently.
Arthur asked in passing, "Where's Jackie? Off chasing that Fixer again?"
"Probably. You can tell he's really invested in this one... Shouldn't be any trouble. When it comes to serious work, he rarely drops the ball," V replied.
"Let's hope it goes smooth..."
Catching the unease in Arthur's tone, V tilted her head. "What is it? You think there's a problem?"
Arthur shook his head. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes gave him that constant, world-weary look.
"The problem is... I don't see a problem.
But every time we deal with a new Fixer, it's a risk.
We don't know them... and that's what worries me most.
Even if the last few jobs went fine..."
V didn't argue. As an intelligence officer, she knew better than anyone how much Fixers influenced mercenary work.
No exaggeration—intel was always the most critical part of any job.
And the more familiar the Fixer, the safer it was.
"Arthur..."
V didn't try to comfort him. She knew him—he wasn't the kind of man who needed that.
"There's no avoiding it.
We don't have a choice. Not yet."
Arthur leaned against the wall by the door. This time, his gaze didn't drift far—it landed on the short figure in the courtyard, who had started firing again.
"If you people knew how to stay quiet... maybe we wouldn't have to worry about this at all."
His hoarse voice was low, but not tired.
V shook her head lightly. "Arthur... Night City eats people alive.
Every year, plenty starve to death. Saburo Arasaka has lived nearly two hundred years... but corpo workers? Most drop dead from exhaustion in their forties or fifties."
She paused, then added, "Old Vik... probably one of the best Ripperdocs in Night City.
But if even one corporation noticed his clinic, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Those hounds could squeeze water from a stone."
Arthur didn't answer. He knew it too... Jessica's father, or V, even Meredith—one was dead, the other two had nearly died, and none of them were even ordinary people.
V's voice trailed softer, almost too faint to hear.
"I used to look down on mercs too, just gutter trash..."
...
That same day, word finally came back from Jackie.
"DeShawn's willing to share more intel. He also wants to see who's really calling the shots among us..."
Over the comms, Jackie's tone carried a trace of relief. He was clearly serious about this job.
"Or rather... Arthur, you or V—one of you should come."
Hearing the voice in their heads, Arthur and V exchanged a glance, silent understanding passing between them. V spoke up:
"Arthur should go. Sure, I could wring that fat bastard's neck myself, but it wouldn't look very intimidating."
Arthur had left the choice to her, so naturally she dumped the trouble back on him.
"Ugh..."
Arthur grunted in annoyance, but didn't try to back out. He answered over comms, "When?"
"Tonight. Afterlife.
How's that saying go...? Time waits for no one? Delay brings trouble? Whatever.
Our big fat choom's all set."
Jackie replied quickly—it sounded like everything was already arranged.
"Fine."
Arthur ended the call, and the line cut.
"Maybe you should tag along too... more heads thinking things through isn't a bad idea."
Arthur glanced at V beside him.
"Trust me... this won't be simple. The deal's not even half-baked yet.
You'll handle it just fine."
V gave him a relaxed smile. "Or... we could keep a live link.Good chance to test how stealthy the new gear really is.
"Forget it. Enjoy your time off, my lady. Just don't trip over your nightgown and crack your head."
Arthur stood, his tone dripping with irritation.
"Well... goodbye. Should I take that as a compliment?"
V tilted her head back with a faint smile, watching him rise and head for the door. "A strange compliment?"
Arthur didn't reply. He only pinched the bridge of his nose before walking out.
...
In the courtyard, the guttural roar of the Quadra Type-66 Avenger engine echoed, then faded as he drove north.
In Night City, the Avenger wasn't high-end by any means, but its power was undeniable, leaving traffic behind in bursts of raw acceleration.
As neon lights streamed past, Arthur found himself back in Watson. The bright green glow of the Afterlife sign blazed above.
He parked in an inconspicuous corner, slammed the car door shut, and headed for the staircase leading underground.
At the entrance, a burly guard—built as solid as Jackie—stood like a statue, motionless as a machine.
Arthur passed without incident, heading straight inside.
From across the room, Jackie spotted him and waved him over.
"Hey... finally."
Jackie threw an arm around Arthur, his mouth running nonstop.
"Over there... our backer booked a private room. At least it looks like one."
...
(60 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser