“Jackie.”
Arthur called out from a distance.
Hearing the voice, Jackie finally stopped talking and turned around. When he saw Arthur, the smile on his round face didn’t fade. He walked over, greeting as he ca.
“Hey, looks like you had a pretty good haul earlier.”
“Let’s not talk about that.”
Arthur raised his forearm and twisted it a little.
“I’m thinking of getting so boxing practice in. How about it—got ti to join ?”
The mont Jackie heard “boxing,” it was like a trigger word. He imdiately rolled up his sleeves, excited.
“Boxing?
Now that’s the right call.
Strength forged in a fight—that’s the only strength that counts.”
With that, he eagerly threw an arm around Arthur’s neck.
“Co on! I know the best spot for boxing around here.
Devil’s Boxing Club—that’s where Vik and I first t.”
Feeling Jackie’s grip tightening around his neck, Arthur’s doubts grew heavier. Still, Vik wouldn’t set him up, right? Probably not...
The place turned out to be a repurposed abandoned factory. The atmosphere was solid—sparring, not bloodshed, was the point. After all, guys like Vik and Jackie weren’t the type to hang out at death pits.
Blue neon strips lined the ceiling, casting a cool glow.
The factory gate hadn’t been altered at all, still wide enough for trucks to roll through.
At the entrance, a young man with a buzz cut and black hair spotted Jackie and called out.
“Jackie! It’s been ages since you ca around, big shot.”
They shook hands, bumped shoulders, and gave each other a few hearty pats.
“Been busy. Finally got a few days free, figured I’d get so real rest.”
After a bit of small talk, the young man glanced at Arthur behind Jackie.
“This your friend? Introduce us.”
Jackie’s grin widened. He slung a muscular arm around Arthur.
“Arthur. My partner—the best rc in all Night City.”
Then he gestured to the young man.
“This is Nick Taylor. Don’t let his age fool you—he owns this place, Devil’s Boxing Club.”
Taylor smiled warmly at Arthur.
“No need to ask, anyone who cos here loves a good fight.
Since you’re Jackie’s friend, you’re family here.
Rember—pick friends who can knock you down. That’s how you get better.”
Inside, the club was huge and packed with people. Two rows of rings dominated the space, with punching bags and other training gear scattered around.
Everyone seed to know Jackie. Even mid-workout, people stopped to greet him.
“You’re pretty famous here, Jackie,” Arthur said, watching the scene.
“Of course! I’m the star attraction.”
Jackie, always the showman, had no idea what modesty ant.
After strapping on his protective foam gear, he picked an empty ring and dragged Arthur up with him.
Arthur’s once-weak body was now lean and muscled, but next to Jackie, he still looked like a scrawny stick.
“Wanna… test our skills a bit first?”
Jackie asked, sounding unsure.
“Sure.”
Arthur tapped the foam helt with his gloved fist. The thing felt reassuringly solid.
He also wanted to see how much of his old saloon-brawl skills he still had left.
The next mont, a sharp gust of air sliced into his helt, shattering any sense of security.
Arthur’s eyes widened as Jackie’s fist rushed at him. He swallowed hard, but his sharp reflexes saved him.
He slipped his head aside, dodging the straight punch—only for an uppercut to co tearing in from below.
The blow tore in like an icy draft slipping past his guard. Arthur didn’t dare try blocking—he twisted away.
But shifting his weight so hastily threw him off balance, leaving him scrambling.
Arthur cursed under his breath. Jackie wasn’t nearly as slow as he looked—his punches ca in a relentless stream, giving Arthur no chance to breathe.
After dodging for over a dozen exchanges, Arthur finally ran out of room. He raised both arms to block, only to be blasted straight into the ropes.
Lying there, drained, he looked up at Jackie approaching and spat out his mouthguard.
“Forget sparring, Jackie. I’m not about to break both arms just for training.”
“Relax, Arthur.
When it cos to boxing, nobody knows it better than .
Just leave your training to .”
Jackie pulled him up and patted his shoulder.
...
The next morning, Vik’s call dragged Arthur from sleep—it was ti for his brain re-exam.
When he showed up, his face was marked with bruises.
Vik smirked.
“Looks like training’s going well.”
“Maybe.”
Arthur had no interest in revisiting yesterday.
He went straight to the scanner and ran through the sa procedure as before.
The images ca up quickly. The shadow in his cerebral sulcus hadn’t spread—it looked almost the sa as before.
“Seems like it won’t worsen for now. Hopefully it never does.”
Vik tapped his desk, hesitant.
“Your case is strange. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of it.”
Arthur leaned closer to study the scan, then imdiately cursed himself for pretending to understand and pulled back.
“No leads at all?”
He asked casually. For him, the worst was just waiting to die—he’d faced that before.
“I do have a theory. A bit unsettling. Want to hear it?”
Vik admitted, still eyeing the scan.
“A theory? Go ahead.”
Arthur, seeing Vik’s serious face, felt more curious than worried.
“If the changes in your brain are part of a process—good or bad aside—
We’ve been treating this as the beginning. But it neither worsens nor disappears.
And you don’t show a single suspicious symptom. That goes against all common sense.”
Common sense? Terrifying? Arthur didn’t get it. He muttered inwardly but didn’t ask further.
Noticing his discomfort, Vik explained,
“What if the changes in your brain are already finished, and what we see now is simply the result?”
Arthur nodded thoughtfully.
“So what you’re saying is—I’m already beyond saving?”
“Wrong!” Vik shot back irritably.
“This change isn’t necessarily an illness… Forget it. You wouldn’t get it anyway. Co back in a month for another scan. For now, you’re done.”
Just then, another patient walked in, and Vik waved Arthur aside.
...
The checkup was over, but the boxing didn’t stop.
Arthur ended up black-and-blue almost every day, but his progress was clear—his shoulders had thickened.
That day, his final straight punch landed hard, making the padding on Jackie’s forearm shake. Sweat stung Arthur’s eyes, and he squinted hard to clear it.
Jackie pulled off his gear, grabbed a water bottle from the ring’s edge, and handed it to the nearly spent Arthur.
“Bro, you’re coming along fast. That last hit had so serious weight behind it.”
Arthur slumped against the ropes, grabbed a towel, and wiped his face roughly. His reply ca between ragged breaths.
“I used to be a pro.”
Back in the West, in saloon brawls, hardly anyone could take him.
Those stronger than him lacked his agility, and those quicker than him couldn’t match his strength. He’d been unstoppable.
But fighters like Jackie—both stronger and just as agile—were another matter. Against them, his only real option was to run. And if he got away, that didn’t count as losing… right?
Still, maybe his so-called “invincibility” hadn’t been as real as he thought.
Arthur chugged half the water bottle, finally letting out a long exhale.
Beside him, Jackie grinned wide, muttering,
“So, yesterday you said my approach was wrong. Got any better ideas?”
Yesterday, Jackie had gone on about how he was chasing Misty —only to get mocked by Arthur.
After sleeping on it, he couldn’t hold back anymore and ca looking for advice.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser
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