More than an hour later, Arthur finally finished his drink and left the Wild Wolf Bar with William, feeling a little tipsy.
For soone like him, who had barely modified his prosthetic body apart from his brain and a small steel cannon, getting drunk was hardly an issue. But living in a place like Night City, who wouldn't want to feel intoxicated every now and then?
Arthur glanced at the email sent by the priest and pinpointed the location.
"As expected, Little China."
As ntioned before, Heywood was an area of stark contrast. It had both extre wealth and crushing poverty, with a middle section serving as a buffer between the two.
Little China was the poorest part of Heywood, ho to over 80% of the district's slums. The poverty had led to an environnt rife with extre violence.
Graffiti-covered ruins bore the marks of the Valentino Gang, their influence deeply embedded in the area. The question was—when the impoverished and the criminals of Little China saw businessn and wealthy individuals passing through, did they feel envy or hatred?
It wasn't a designated combat zone, but it was still extrely dangerous.
Of course, that only applied to ordinary people. For soone like Arthur, who specialized in combat, even a war zone wouldn't feel too threatening.
After all, no one was stupid enough to pick a fight they couldn't win.
By 2076, scanning technology had beco incredibly advanced. Unless soone was using a highly customized modification, it was easy to assess a person's combat capabilities at a glance.
Imagine walking down the street and spotting soone covered head to toe in unknown cyberware. What would you do?
In a ga, you might be tempted to approach and stab them just to see what loot they were carrying. But in reality? You'd keep your distance. You wouldn't want to end up in a back alley, bleeding out in Night City's filth.
So, not only did no one harass Arthur as he walked, but even the tattoo-covered gangsters steered clear of him. So even looked as if they wanted to hide in trash cans, afraid of being noticed.
Despite the slum's reputation for frequent violence and cri, Arthur didn't hear a single sign of trouble.
To an outsider, it might seem like Little China had a better security system than the rest of Night City. But that wasn't the case—this was simply fear at work.
Of course, just because experienced criminals could sense danger didn't an newbies could.
The problem with rookies is that they don't know their place.
"Hey, Arthur, are you sure you can handle this alone?" William asked nervously, keeping his hands hidden under his coat. "Where are your weapons? I don't see anything on you."
His body language was jittery, like a cockroach scurrying near a piece of bread in Night City's kitchens—obviously up to sothing.
Arthur glanced at William's oversized windbreaker and imdiately knew what was underneath.
"Let guess... a DB-2 Satara?"
It was a common shotgun in Night City, a double-barreled electromagnetic weapon. Popular, affordable, and reliable—at least compared to the garbage-tier weapons so people used.
It was produced by Rostovic, a company known for making cheap firearms. In Night City, the only thing more important than life itself was a weapon. Money ca after that.
But just like everywhere else, Night City had a class divide. The rich could afford high-end Arasaka or Kang Tao gear, but the poor? They relied on budget weapons.
That's where Affordable Firepower Company ca in.
Buying a gun from them was as easy as getting a snack from a vending machine. Just pop in so coins, and out ca a weapon. The only downside? The quality was questionable.
Still, even a low-quality gun could kill, and that was all that mattered.
The company's most infamous product was the disposable pistol—a cheap firearm, often the first choice for the desperate seeking revenge. There was, however, a 60% chance that it would explode upon firing.
But for those set on revenge, that didn't matter. Either way, soone was going to die.
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"With that shotgun of yours, if a real fight breaks out, you'll probably end up as pulp," Arthur said with a smirk.
The gangs in Night City had serious firepower.
Most were backed by corporations, aning the weapons discarded by corporate armies often ended up in their hands. Gang mbers could get their hands on heavy machine guns, rocket launchers, and sotis even military-grade combat drones.
Of course, they wouldn't normally deploy such extre asures. Even gangsters had to respect the city's power structure.
"That's still better than walking around unard," William grumbled, clearly irritated. He had finally built up the courage to seek revenge—failure wasn't an option.
Dying? That was one thing. But losing face? That was worse.
Arthur sighed and stopped next to a secluded alley. He glanced at William and shook his head.
"This is why I hate clueless rookies," he muttered. "Listen, once I take your money, I will get the job done. If I thought I couldn't handle it, I wouldn't have accepted it in the first place. I don't gamble with my life."
"I'm not so idiot who'd try to assassinate Saburo Arasaka just for the sake of a cool headline."
Arthur took a deep breath, checked his surroundings, and confird that they were near their target location.
Satisfied, he turned to William again.
"Stay here. Don't move. I'll handle this. You can deal with your enemy after I bring him to you."
Without waiting for a response, Arthur stepped out of the alley, walking toward the target location with confident strides.
Night City's Slums—A Filthy Maze
The slums were a maze of twisting alleyways, narrow roads, and a constant stench.
Every step was a gamble—you might step on sothing disgusting, or worse, sothing dangerous.
Arthur turned a corner and spotted two figures conducting a deal. They each held large boxes, whispering as they exchanged goods.
The mont they noticed him, a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto him.
One of them belonged to the Uzumaki Gang. He had extra cybernetic eyes embedded in his face, making him look like a mutated rat from the sewers.
Arthur could never understand their aesthetic choices.
Clearly, this was an illegal arms deal. Arthur shrugged.
"Just passing through. Don't mind ," he said casually, walking in another direction.
But one of them—a particularly stupid gang mber—stepped forward, ignoring his own scanning data.
"Hey, bastard! You think you can just walk away after seeing our deal?" he sneered. "You're making lose face."
He pulled out a pistol and aid it at Arthur.
Arthur sighed. Seriously? With a weapon like that?
Without another word, he activated his Mantis Blades.
Ti seed to freeze as Arthur vanished and reappeared behind the two n.
His blades slashed through their necks like a scythe through wheat.
A second later, ti resud. The gang mbers barely registered what happened before their heads twisted midair, their bodies collapsing in a spray of blood.
Arthur retracted his blades, picked up the two boxes, and sighed.
"So suffering is inflicted by others," he muttered. "So suffering is self-inflicted. Night City never changes—still full of idiots who force my hand."
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