Along the streets, massive holographic billboards seed almost real in the night—scantily clad models leaning against skyscrapers that disappeared into the sky, welcoming every visitor to Night City.
Traffic showed no sign of slowing. Angry honks mixed with curses, while bursts of multicolored light scattered wildly, streaking across the car windows.
“Finally over... Damn it, this ti I’m taking a long vacation.”
Leaning back in the passenger seat, Arthur had already tossed his hat onto the dashboard.
The chaotic lights outside flickered across his face, his stubble shifting shades with every passing glow.
“It’s about ti for a break... Christmas is just a few days away. Maybe we should actually get together for once.”
V’s clear voice ca from the driver’s seat.
Her hands rested loosely on the wheel, the recent surgery seemingly leaving her completely unfazed.
“Holidays... has it really been a year already?”
Arthur muttered, though not because he cared about the holiday itself.
Back then, they sotis didn’t even know the month, let alone care about so damn festival.
Still, in less than a year, things had been... eventful, to say the least.
“I need so proper sleep... and to stay far away from your ss.”
As he said it, Arthur suddenly rembered sothing and glanced at V.
“Oh, right... how’s the new Cyberware?”
“No clue... that damn progress bar is crawling so slowly it’s driving nuts.
Maybe we’ll give it a try tomorrow.”
The car roared down the road, carrying them through a short stretch of ti. When it stopped again, they were back in Watson.
Little China’s grimy, bustling streets unfolded before them—along with a new comm call bringing their mission’s paynt.
“Nice work, friends...”
The dim lighting was as usual, but this ti Mr. Hands appeared fully illuminated. Behind him, polished stone walls shimred with flowing light.
“We’re not in the business of needing custor reviews... Just pay us more.”
Arthur cracked a small joke. He had a certain fondness for this steady Fixer.
“Haha...” Mr. Hands chuckled softly on the other end. The ‘joke’ wasn’t particularly funny, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying the easy familiarity.
“Of course, the paynt will be more generous... Consider it my treat for a round of drinks.
Forgive for not joining you. That Gig may be wrapped up, but... my attention is still tied elsewhere.
You see, their situation isn’t so different from mine back in the day...
That’s all for now.”
With that, he cut the line.
The paynt—50,000 eddies each—added to the string of recent jobs, pushed Arthur’s balance past 300,000 eddies.
Enough to live comfortably for a good while...
“Pretty good payday for this Gig, huh?”
V had received the sa transfer. She shot Arthur a sideways glance, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Not bad... Maybe I should think about retiring.”
Neural Link accounts were convenient, he thought. At least this ti he wouldn’t lose his hard-earned savings to so stupid screw-up, like in the old days.
“Retire?
At the very least, you should move.
Keep living in that gabuilding dump, and sooner or later soone’s gonna knock you over the head.”
V’s savings had to be higher than Arthur’s—after all, she’d been taking Gigs nonstop while he was still recovering.
But clearly... she wasn’t happy with her balance.
She was aiming to get back to the standard of living she’d once had with the company.
“I’m perfectly happy where I am. Dry, warm, bathroom right next to the bed... don’t even have to walk far to take a piss at night.
See? A big house isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Arthur smirked, his eyes overflowing with indifference.
“But your place is crawling with drunks... and lunatics hiding in the walls.
Know what that ans?
Vomit outside your door, or stray bullets flying past at night.”
V shot back, arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on Arthur, a playful smirk curling her lips.
“Or is it... you just can’t handle walking that short a distance?”
Arthur ignored the jab. The elevator clattered to a halt, delivering them to their floor.
Surprisingly, two NCPD officers were stationed beside a strip of cri scene tape—soone else had probably been killed. The hallway was brightly lit, with a few stragglers wandering about, likely tenants kicked out for missing rent.
Arthur brushed it all aside and strode straight into his apartnt, V following without hesitation.
He collapsed onto the sofa, several bottles already lined up on the small coffee table—pulled straight from his fridge.
V sank into the other side of the couch, fully relaxed. Alcohol was, after all, the best way to guarantee a good night’s sleep... though she never kept it stockpiled at ho.
“Maybe I should wish you a happy move.
Why not crawl back to Westbrook, play kiddie badge gas with your old coworkers?”
Arthur hugged a bottle, taking a heavy swig. The burn in his throat made him squint.
“You couldn’t be more wrong... dumb cowboy.
I’ll use my savings to buy a good car first. Not waste it on a cabinet full of booze to drown myself in like you.”
V yanked the cork from her bottle and downed a few gulps.
She could say that—V almost never drank herself under.
“Alright... alright... Hah—”
Arthur exhaled a long breath, then shifted the subject.
“lanie... that little boss. Tell ... was Nord a traitor?”
It wasn’t their concern anymore, but Arthur still wanted to ask. Maybe it was so lingering obsession—anything involving traitors hit close to ho.
He rembered how V had barely reacted when the traitor left.
“Maybe it was just old habits?
They never put it on the table, probably to leave themselves so room.”
V rocked her bottle lazily, her tone calm.
“But... that Nord guy probably won’t be around much longer...”
...
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