"Dying like this is too easy for him."
Still fuming, Rebecca wanted to kick him, but one look at his disgusting face made her pull her shoe back.
This guy was a total idiot. She frowned and asked,
"Seriously, how did someone this stupid manage to stay hidden for twelve years?"
Arthur nudged the man's crippled left arm aside with his boot, exposing bruised skin covered in a maze of needle marks. His gaze shifted to the syringes scattered across the floor.
"Withdrawal scrambles their brains to mush.
Guys like him either end up monsters like Bowey, or they rot away in some alley."
With that, Arthur pried up the wooden planks covering the basement.
In the dim light, a filthy, emaciated figure was curled up beneath.
The kid's chest still rose and fell faintly, and Arthur felt a small measure of relief.
He had already messaged Regina—now it was just a matter of waiting.
Two vehicles soon rolled up: a towering Badlands rig with tires half a man's height, followed by a small truck with a cargo compartment.
Regina climbed out first. Her right eye was gone, covered with a black eyepatch, and scars ran down the same side of her face—marks of a battle-hardened fighter.
Her ponytail was tied high, her stride long and steady, radiating sharp efficiency.
Spotting Arthur and Rebecca from afar, she raised a hand.
"Arthur, you handled this beautifully. I owe you thanks.
One of my people asked me to look after his kid—I couldn't stand the thought of letting him down."
She clasped Arthur's hand firmly, her expression sincere.
"No need to thank me. I enjoyed it. Besides, I'm getting paid."
A cigar dangled from Arthur's lips. Smoke drifted around his words, parting to reveal sapphire eyes beneath his gambler's hat.
After killing that bastard, his eyes looked darker, sharper than before.
"Your payment's here. I'll hand it over in a minute—you'll like it."
With that, Regina hurried into the basement, four medics with a stretcher following behind.
Once the child was secured, the truck departed immediately.
Regina stayed, stepping onto a tire to haul a long black case from the passenger seat.
The case wasn't metal—it had a fine, matte texture. At its center gleamed a corpo logo: a square frame with a sharp "V" filling the middle.
Militech.
She handed the case to Arthur, tapping it as she explained,
"Militech M-179 Achilles.
A tech precision rifle. Its fire rate's slow—charging the electromagnetic rails takes time—but if your aim's good, its power rivals a sniper rifle."
Arthur hefted the case. It wasn't heavy—easy enough to carry freely.
After handing over the rifle, Regina didn't linger. She climbed back into her rig and left without another word.
Rebecca stretched out her short arms, swatting at the dust kicked up by the departing vehicle.
"Arthur, you really need a new car!"
She pointed after Regina's rig. One of its tires stood nearly two-thirds of her height.
"No. I like my John."
"John"—the name Arthur had given his beat-up old car.
Arthur was thoroughly satisfied with Regina's payment. He had no love for rapid-fire weapons; recoil ruined his aim, and he didn't need a storm of bullets to get the job done.
With their new toy in tow, they drove north toward Watson, home turf for most mercs in Night City.
Ignoring Rebecca's constant babbling, Arthur dropped her off at home and headed for Viktor's clinic to stash the rifle.
Passing Misty's Esoterica and Chakra Harmonization, he spotted Jackie hunched over the counter, still rattling off lines despite Misty's half-hearted responses.
Jackie had been trying to win her over for days, but progress was slow.
Arthur didn't interfere and went straight downstairs to Viktor's clinic.
The patients were gone, and Dorio—the muscular woman who had been caring for them—had left as well.
With no one around, Viktor had cranked up the volume on the boxing match playing on his screen. He never seemed to get tired of it.
"Hey, Arthur, you and Jackie sure have been keeping me busy lately."
Viktor greeted him with a wave, half complaint, half joke.
"Forget that. I couldn't just let them die, and your work's the best. Anyway—check out my new partner."
Arthur set the black Militech case on the counter.
"Regina gave it to me. Somehow, she always manages to get her hands on corpo gear."
Viktor straightened the case, unlatched it, and flipped it open.
Inside lay a dark-gold rifle, much smaller than the Giant—no surprise, since it was a main battle rifle.
"Beautiful."
Viktor murmured, admiring the weapon that gleamed like a piece of art in the dim light.
The rifle's frame was shaped like a "Y." The two angled arms at the top held the electromagnetic rails, while the lower section formed the barrel and receiver.
Its dark-gold and black camouflage finish was deliberate—muted, barely reflective, almost like built-in camo.
"Looks like you made quite the haul. This rifle's worth is right up there with the Nekomata sniper."
After a quick look, Viktor shut the case.
The dignity of a gun is forged in battle—not in display cases or empty praise.
He looked at Arthur with a grin.
"Alright, out with it. You wouldn't come bug an old man like me for nothing."
"Hah."
Arthur tipped his hat back with a laugh, his eyes flicking toward the screen behind Viktor, where cheers still roared.
"Not much going on lately. Thought you could take me to the boxing gym, let me train a little. You seem to know your stuff."
The issues left by Arthur's original body had eased somewhat, but they weren't fixed.
Out West, he'd been a brute who could pry open a wolf's jaws barehanded. Now, even lifting a sniper rifle was a strain. His shoulders hadn't filled out yet.
"Boxing?"
Viktor rubbed his chin, giving Arthur a curious look.
"Maybe someone else is better suited."
"Who?"
Arthur looked genuinely puzzled, and Viktor realized he wasn't joking—he really didn't know.
"I told you how Jackie and I met, didn't I?"
Viktor grinned at the memory.
"Devil's Boxing Club. One punch from Jackie put me flat. Felt like being slammed by a truck."
Arthur remembered now—Viktor had mentioned meeting Jackie at a boxing gym.
But just look at them.
Arthur was tall, but Jackie stood half a head higher, his arms thicker than Arthur's legs.
Arthur wasn't exactly eager to get pummeled.
After a pause, he suggested cautiously,
"I'm not looking for a fight. Just some training.
What if… you filled in instead?"
Seeing the hesitation on Arthur's face, Viktor guessed his concern. Suppressing a smile, he answered firmly,
"Jackie's the one you want. Trust me.
I'm too old to spar with you kids, and the clinic keeps me tied down. Don't worry—Jackie's the best partner you could ask for."
Arthur nodded doubtfully, deciding he'd ask Jackie later.
After stowing both his guns, he found Jackie still at Misty's counter.
The big guy was still grinding out awkward small talk, while Misty gave him absent, half-hearted replies.
That strange, gentle girl might already have been losing patience.
Or maybe not—her smile was still as soft as ever.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser