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V, who was born into the corporate world, is considered the strongest among the three possible backgrounds.
Though corporate employees aren't particularly admired in Night City, anyone with exceptional skills would still aim to join a corporation. Not just regular folks, but even cyberpunks. Take Morgan Blackhand, for example—though his current fate is unknown, he worked under Militech.
Of course, exceptions exist. Becoming a legend in Night City doesn't always require brute strength. Take Johnny Silverhand—he beca a legend not because of his power, but his rebellious spirit. Then again, maybe it's also because he gave the whole city a front-row seat to his "big mushroom."
While Arthur pondered this, Jack was already on the line with V, the girl who'd "sold her soul" to the corporation.
"Hey, Jack, I've been busier than a sewing machine in prison lately," V said, her voice laced with humor. "What do you need?"
"Chica, I told you not to wear that suit all the ti. Listen, an old friend and I are about to serve so justice in Night City."
"Justice? Sounds like soone's about to send you straight to hell under the guise of morality. What's the story?"
"There's this factory owner in the Westbrook area. He's planning to skip town without paying his workers. My buddy and I want to... help him understand the value of fairness. Doesn't that sound like justice to you?"
V laughed. "Sure, Jack. Let's just say you're all about justice. What do you need from ?"
"Well, the problem is the guy's in hiding. You know how it works in Night City—learn to scurry like a cockroach, and no one will find you. We need intel, chica."
"Michael, right? Give a sec. I'll pull up what I can and send it to you soon. Just keep an eye on your inbox."
The call ended quickly. Jack turned to Arthur with a grin. "See? She's reliable. We'll have that bastard's address in no ti. Then, we show up, knock him around, grab the money, and leave. Justice for Night City, and payday for us. Perfect plan!"
Arthur lit a cigarette, his expression unamused. "If life were that simple, I'd have assassinated Saburo Arasaka already."
Jack stiffened, glancing nervously around. The ntion of such a bold act made his skin crawl. He relaxed only after ensuring no corporate employees were within earshot.
"Arthur, you're insane! You can't just say stuff like that in public. If anyone from Arasaka hears, you'll end up on their wanted list in no ti. And if you're wanted, I'm screwed too. I've got a life to live, you know!"
Arthur smirked. "God on Earth? Bullshit. Humans are just apes in fancy clothes, and gods are just humans who've mastered the art of deception."
Jack scratched his head, bewildered by Arthur's cynicism. "Man, I keep saying it—you should've been a philosopher, not a cyberpunk. Publish a book. I'll buy it!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sure you will. You're the kind of guy who'd call brilliant but never step foot in a bookstore."
As they bantered, Arthur couldn't help but think soone like T-Bug would be more likely to buy his hypothetical book. A cyberpsycho's inner world might actually appeal to certain literary types.
Before their conversation could get any deeper, V sent the information to Jack's inbox. Jack skimd through the files, his expression growing awkward.
"Michael's still in Westbrook," Jack said. "Specifically, the North Oak area."
Arthur groaned. "Great. Why do people like him get to live in North Oak? How the hell can a sliball like Michael afford a villa there?"
North Oak was in the Westbrook District, a unique area closely tied to Johnny Silverhand's infamous "big mushroom." When that nuclear explosion rocked Night City, radiation perated the city center, turning it into an uninhabitable wasteland. Only fools lived in the old city center after that.
Wealthy corporations saw an opportunity. They relocated their headquarters to Westbrook, establishing a new hub for the elite. Even after the radiation was cleaned up, the rich clung to Westbrook out of a strange emotional attachnt. It had beco a new symbol of power.
North Oak, in particular, was the crown jewel of Westbrook. Corporate bigwigs and entertainnt celebrities called it ho. The area boasted luxurious mansions, stunning man-made landscapes, and communities with finely-tuned ecological systems.
Notable figures like Johnny Silverhand's old fla and Hanako Arasaka resided there. Hanako, born in the 1990s, was a pri example of North Oak's exclusivity.
But what made the district even more challenging wasn't its glamour—it was the fortress-like security. Every mansion was equipped with state-of-the-art defenses, including ard guards, war robots, and a constant swarm of surveillance drones overhead.
Arthur sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette. "So, what's the plan, genius? Walk into North Oak, knock on his door, and ask for the money?"
Jack scratched his neck. "I an... it won't be that simple, but we'll figure it out. We always do, right?"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sure, Jack. Let's just hope this ti, our fists are enough to punch through corporate-grade security."
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