“David said soone here was looking for a Doctor. That you?”
Arthur scanned the room and spotted Lucy sitting across the table with her back to him. She was surrounded by several girls, making it clear they were part of the burly man’s crew.
“A Doctor?”
The man’s face darkened with displeasure. He glanced at the woman beside him, then at David next to Arthur, before scoffing.
“No way! I’m perfectly fine. Don’t need a Doctor.”
Arthur narrowed his eyes, studying him. The irritation vanished as quickly as it ca, replaced by a hearty grin, as though nothing had happened.
Arthur extended his hand.
“Arthur Morgan.”
He gestured to the man beside him.
“This is Jackie Welles.”
“Maine.” The man shook his hand firmly, then added, “The rest of you are all young. You’ll get along just fine.”
Arthur sat across from him, introductions properly made.
“I heard you saved Gloria. I owe her a favor, so dinner’s on .”
Maine’s voice bood with blunt confidence. After just a few exchanges, he was treating Arthur and Jackie like old friends.
“Then we’ll eat well,” Arthur said with a smile.
The restaurant wasn’t in the best location, but the food was surprisingly good.
“David’s been running himself ragged trying to save Gloria. Of course, we’ve been gathering intel too, but we’ve found almost nothing. If you two hear anything, let us know right away.”
Clearly, Maine valued loyalty. He had taken Gloria’s situation to heart.
“Of course. But Gloria’s injuries are serious. For now, there’s not much that can be done.”
Arthur knew the incomplete specins in Diman Slaughterhouse’s underground lab were useless. The only real chance was at Biotechnica’s CHOOH2 Plant—but that place was a secret experintal site, likely guarded by a full military unit. Going there was suicide.
David was impulsive, and Maine, from what Arthur could tell, wasn’t exactly cautious either. If he told them, they’d throw themselves into a deathtrap. So Arthur kept quiet.
Dinner gave way to drinking.
As the liquor flowed, Arthur and Jackie quickly grew comfortable with the crew. They were an interesting bunch—though, to Arthur’s surprise, there was a young girl among them.
The “little girl” he’d muttered about imdiately locked onto him, storming over with fire in her eyes.
“Little girl? Huh? Who the hell are you calling a little girl? Look closer, pretty boy—I’m already twenty!”
Her eyes blazed as she lunged for his collar.
But Arthur wasn’t having it. Before her short arms could reach him, he lifted her by the back of her jacket.
“Twenty years old?” he asked, squinting as he held her up for inspection.
She was short—her plump fra and oversized jacket made her legs look even shorter. Dangling from Arthur’s grip, she flailed wildly, her short arms useless against him. Her legs kicked helplessly in the air.
The others burst into laughter, but to her ears it was unbearable.
“You pretty boy!” she roared, clinging to Arthur’s arm with both hands and legs, before sinking her teeth hard into the web of his hand.
“I’ll bite you to death!”
Arthur winced, trying to shake her off, but she clung tightly. The pain dug deep, and he grabbed her collar with his other hand, tugging.
“Hey. Let go.”
He pulled her closer and found himself staring into her furious, blinking eyes. The harder she bit, the more pressure tugged at his skin. Arthur wasn’t worried about the pain—he was worried she’d break her own teeth.
Finally, she released him, baring her teeth in defiance.
“Turnip Head, what’s your na?” Arthur asked, setting her down.
Two deep rows of bite marks swelled with blood across his hand. She had a hell of a bite.
“Rebecca!” she spat, glaring up at him. “Pretty boy, you’d better rember that!”
Arthur ruffled her hair casually.
“Arthur Morgan.”
Rebecca puffed her cheeks and slapped his hand away.
“Hmph! I didn’t ask,” she muttered, crossing her arms.
A sharp laugh cut through the noise.
“Ha ha ha! Little sis’s new nickna is perfect! Turnip Head? Hahahaha—”
The voice belonged to a tall, thin man with stubble and long, slender prosthetic arms. He clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he was out of breath.
Rebecca lunged at him, and the two tumbled into a playful scuffle.
The lighthearted fight helped break the ice, drawing the group closer.
Arthur, rembering David’s excuse for bringing him here, seized the mont to probe Maine.
“Want to see Gloria? You two seem pretty close.”
ntioning the Doctor always made Maine bristle, which only confird sothing was wrong.
“See her? Forget it. I’m too busy,” Maine replied bluntly, almost as if he’d caught on.
The gathering stretched late into the night. But Night City was a place that never slept.
The area was quiet, except for the occasional roar of traffic from the elevated highway nearby. The road itself was deserted, lined with streetlights and abandoned containers.
Just as the group was about to part ways, a figure blocked their path.
He stood on top of a container, urinating into the middle of the road as if no one else existed.
Under the streetlight, his shadow stretched long, accompanied by that disturbing stream.
“Hey, asshole! This isn’t a toilet!”
Rebecca’s brother, Pilar—the man with the prosthetic arms—pointed at him and shouted.
“You! Answer ! You deaf?”
The figure didn’t respond. Pilar’s anger boiled over.
He was drunk. Hell, they all were. Nobody noticed the strangeness. The group prepared to walk around, but Pilar wasn’t about to back off.
He vaulted onto the container, seizing the man by the back of the neck and shaking him.
“You shaless bastard, think this is your ho?”
He leaned in for a closer look, then sneered.
“Look at your busted cyberware. You idiot, your arm’s not even aligned.”
Still no response, even after a few hard jabs from Pilar’s finger.
By the roadside, Rebecca clasped her hands behind her head and called lazily, “Let’s go, old fart. Don’t bother with him.”
She still hadn’t forgiven Arthur for the nickna, occasionally kicking him in mock annoyance.
But Pilar wasn’t letting go. He cursed, shouting beside the stranger.
“Pissing in the street like an idiot. Get lost! Do you even know whose turf this is—”
The man finally moved. His shriveled lips twitched, his eyes dull as he glanced at Pilar. With a raspy grunt, he raised his forearm.
The attack ca without warning. His wrist snapped open, revealing a dark barrel.
Gunfire and the blast erupted almost simultaneously. Arthur reacted the instant the man raised his arm.
But no matter how fast, drawing and firing still took ti.
By then, the man had already fired. A grenade tore through Pilar’s legs, exploding against the container beneath him.
Almost simultaneously, Arthur’s bullet tore through the man’s skull, raining crimson and bone onto the street.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser
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