"We can do another checkup in five days—no, make that three.
If things get worse, or if you show any symptoms, I'll have to perform a biopsy."
Seeing Vik's serious expression, Arthur felt a chill in his chest.
He never imagined that after dying of an incurable illness in his own time, he would survive two centuries only to face another unknown affliction—a curse that refused to release him.
"Let's hope everything goes smoothly. After all this time, nothing's gone wrong with me yet."
Pushing down his unease, Arthur instead tried to comfort Vik. Strangely, it felt almost second nature.
"Morgan, if anything comes up, don't hide it from me.
Trust me—I can help."
Meeting Vik's eyes, Arthur replied,
"Of course, Vik. You saved my life.
I've got every reason to trust you."
Arthur's lighthearted tone made Vik chuckle and shake his head, easing much of the weight pressing on him.
"You're teasing me again...
You know what I mean. Just remember—if I can help, don't let pride get in the way."
They hadn't known each other long, but the bond between them was real and unshaken.
...
The next day, fresh from a job, Arthur and Jackie decided to finally take a break.
Lizzie's Bar—a place famous for its custom Braindance.
Braindance was a full-sensory narrative experience.
It didn't offer much freedom, but if it was something you'd never touch in real life, why not live it in a dream instead?
Real or not, it felt close enough to the truth.
At a corner table, empty bottles were already stacked in front of Arthur and Jackie.
They hadn't come for the Braindance. The quiet atmosphere and absence of irritating types were enough.
Most folks here were lost in their own worlds—slipping on their wreaths, drifting away into Braindance.
"We're making a name for ourselves. That big guy from the Maelstrom we dropped? Turns out he was a serious boss.
The Fixers haven't stopped calling me."
Jackie swung his glass like a conquering hero bragging about his spoils.
"His death's got nothing to do with us. Don't go borrowing trouble, kid."
Arthur shot Jackie a sharp look. He couldn't understand why the guy always insisted on dragging trouble their way.
"I didn't spread anything, but those Fixers working with Wakako have their ears everywhere.
She knew Jessica was sent there—it wasn't hard to piece together."
Arthur muttered, unimpressed by Jackie's innocent look.
"Doesn't matter if they figured it out. Their opinion's not our concern.
Just remember one thing—we never admit it was us."
In his past life, trouble had chased him no matter how far he ran.
Here in Night City, it turned into "work experience" that actually landed him more jobs.
What a twisted city.
The drinks kept coming, and Arthur let himself sink into the rare ease of the moment.
Then, his comms pinged.
He figured it was a Fixer offering work and was ready to decline—until he saw the caller's name.
David.
The kid had been desperately searching for a way to treat his mom.
Could he finally have found something?
"What do you want?"
Arthur connected.
"You busy? Got anything unfinished right now?"
David's voice came through. They'd only met twice—and Arthur had beaten him up the first time—but somehow their relationship was good. Especially for David, who acted like they were lifelong friends.
"Spit it out, kid."
"Alright... I need your help.
My boss hasn't been feeling well. I was hoping Vik could take a look."
Arthur felt his temper rise. Something about David reminded him of someone he once knew, and it got under his skin.
"If you want Vik, then call Vik! He runs a clinic—he doesn't only treat me!"
"Well... you're the one I know best."
There was a trace of embarrassment in David's voice.
"Besides, my boss wants to meet you."
"Meet me? For what? Where the hell are you?"
"Uh... TURBO Restaurant. We're all here."
The moment he had the address, Arthur cut the line.
Jackie leaned in, curious.
"Who was that?"
"Remember that Tyger Claws job? The kid who drove the car."
Arthur explained, pushing Jackie back a bit with his hand.
"Speaking of that kid—you know he's on TV now?"
Arthur frowned, and Jackie eagerly continued.
"Not all the Tyger Claws behind us that day got taken out. One of them recorded David driving.
That clip of him treating a car like a motorcycle? Nobody can watch it without cracking up."
Arthur's mouth twitched. Truth be told, he'd felt a flash of panic himself that night.
The others might not have noticed, but he felt every lurch of the car—and he'd clearly seen David's arm twitching like a seizure.
Jackie was still rambling when he asked,
"So what did the kid want?"
"He said his boss needs Vik, and they want us to come too."
Arthur didn't mind—after all, it was dinner time anyway. He looked at Jackie.
"So? Wanna go?"
"Hell yeah. Let's check on the kid."
Jackie stood immediately.
...
TURBO was near Japantown, not too close but not far either. By the time night had fully settled, Arthur and Jackie arrived.
The place sat just off the elevated highway exit—a row of small shops with a tiny parking lot.
Business was booming, the lot packed, with small groups chatting outside.
Luckily, they'd come on foot.
As they approached, a young man in a yellow Trauma Team jacket with a buzz cut waved at them—David, his face lit with excitement.
"Alright, kid, what's this about?"
Arthur walked over slowly, ruffling David's head with his hand.
"Couldn't reach you guys for days. You out on a job?"
David asked as he led them inside.
The restaurant was simple: a long counter on one side, partitioned tables on the other.
Arthur scanned the room, then answered,
"Yeah, a rescue job."
He thought briefly of that underground lab—the project involving neural cell restart protocols.
But it was unfinished, useless for David's mom right now.
Arthur kept it to himself—he didn't want the kid doing anything reckless.
They reached a table when a booming voice called out,
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! So this is the 'big brother' David keeps talking about?"
Arthur shot David a look. Damn it. Suddenly, he realized why the kid had felt so familiar—since when had he become an older brother?
David glanced around awkwardly. Arthur glared but didn't argue.
He turned toward the voice and saw a massive, bronze-skinned man in sunglasses seated by the window.
Beside him sat a short-haired woman with a build nearly as solid as his own—Arthur assumed she was a woman.
The man's body bore heavy cyberware markings, but Arthur didn't sense the same threat he had from Joseph of the Maelstrom.
"So you're the one who wanted to see me?"
Arthur asked.
"Yeah. David said you're like his brother, so I figured I should meet you."
Maine grinned broadly.
Though this so-called brother looked thin and unassuming, Maine's instincts—sharpened by years of walking the edge between life and death—told him one thing:
The man across from him wasn't just dangerous.
He was lethal.
...
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