"Quiet life, huh, Maine? So… short on cash lately?"
The man's oily voice grated on the ears, making the skin crawl.
"As you can see, I'm retired. All my implants are stripped out.
Staying alive beats playing soldier at my age."
Maine didn't bother getting up when he saw who it was.
The turquoise neon from TURBO Restaurant lit the man's face: short white hair, a sharp red tailored suit.
But the most unsettling thing was his right eye—modified with three vertically stacked lenses, like the compound eyes of an insect.
"I can see the restlessness in your eyes, Maine. You're not as ready to let go as you think.
I'm offering you a chance. Will you take it?"
Looking down at the two of them, he spoke as if he had Maine all figured out—a stubborn type, easy to control.
"Faraday...
I told you already. I'm retired.
I don't take jobs anymore."
Maine still wore a smile, but the certainty in his tone made the refusal clear to anyone.
Faraday's false grin slipped, the malice in all four eyes impossible to miss.
"Then maybe I wasn't clear enough.
I've got a job for you. And I expect you to take it."
"Going deaf, are you?
Or do you just think I work for you?"
Maine's voice went cold. The tension froze the air.
Faraday had long wanted to pull Maine's crew under his thumb, though he'd never seen them as allies. To him, everyone was just a piece on the board—expendable.
After a long silence, Faraday chuckled darkly, the cold gleam in his eyes unchanged.
"You should've stayed smart, Maine.
Trust me, you're making the wrong choice."
He let the threat hang, his gaze drifting over David before he turned and climbed back into his car, leaving the air sour with CHOOH2 exhaust.
"That fixer who hired us to jack that car?
He almost got us killed by holding back intel."
David frowned as he watched the car disappear into the distance, his voice edged with resentment.
And he was right—they had almost died that time.
Because of a batch of biotech test drugs and chips, Tiger Claw muscle was thick in the area. Faraday hadn't said a word about it.
If Maine hadn't pulled in reinforcements to draw some of them off—and if they hadn't run into Arthur and Jackie by chance on the overpass—he and Lucy never would've made it out.
"He didn't want to get tied to that mess. The car belonged to a man named Katsuo Tanaka.
That's Arasaka business. And anything linked to Arasaka is never small."
Maine's voice was steady. He'd always known Faraday wasn't a reliable partner.
But back when he'd first returned from service and was trying to get a foothold in Night City, Faraday had thrown him a line. That was the only reason he kept taking his jobs.
"You think he'll just walk away from this?
Doesn't feel that simple."
David couldn't shake the unease from Faraday's parting threat.
"Don't worry too much.
Faraday doesn't like getting close to mercs. He's a loner, and not that strong himself.
Without profit to push him, he won't risk crossing us."
Maine didn't dwell on it. Instead, he shifted to another topic.
These days, his crew was scattered and hardly ever worked together. Especially Kiwi—she only showed up once in a long while.
"Honestly, it's not so bad. Everyone's sticking to smaller contracts, low-risk stuff.
If something comes up that one person can't handle, then we regroup. No rush."
David shrugged. At least he and Lucy worked well together.
Maine laughed.
"Fair point. I'm out of the game now. That's your business."
In truth, Maine's crew had already dissolved.
...
Jig-Jig Street.
Deep inside a familiar pachinko parlor, Arthur stood with his hands on his belt, waiting casually.
Across from him, behind a low tea table, an elderly woman with silver-white hair knelt politely. Her warm smile carried a natural kindness, though in truth she was the undisputed ruler of the area's underworld.
Arthur watched Wakako Okada pour tea into a delicate porcelain cup.
"Ma'am, I've got enough cash for now. I was planning to take a few days off..."
As a born-and-bred cowboy, Arthur never saved money. He only went back to work when his pockets were empty.
"I know... but this time, I need someone I can rely on."
Wakako slid a steaming cup of bitter tea toward him and gestured with a smile.
"My operation looks grand, but the truth is, I don't have many I can truly trust.
And this job cannot go wrong."
They had only worked together a few times, but Arthur and Wakako had found an easy rapport.
Arthur picked up the cup and took a sip.
"Tss..."
The heat burned his lips, spilling tea across his hand. He hissed and dropped the cup back onto the table.
It clattered loudly, tea splashing across the wood. Embarrassed, Arthur pulled his hand back, shaking it.
Wakako calmly tossed him a clean white towel, watching with amusement.
"Not used to it, I see. Hot tea needs to be sipped slowly."
Folding her hands neatly again, she continued.
"I can tell you'd rather avoid trouble right now. But this is a special case. Forgive me for being blunt."
Arthur draped the towel over his reddened hand before answering, brow furrowed.
"Alright, alright... running errands is nothing new for me."
Arthur wasn't the type to refuse people.
"But at least tell me what the job is, so I can give you a real answer."
Wakako swirled the lid across her teacup.
"We all know the state of Westbrook.
The Tiger Claws, with Arasaka at their back, run wild here."
Her gaze drifted, like she was remembering something.
"I'm guessing you've been to Lizzie's Bar, one of the quieter spots."
Arthur stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.
"That place belongs to the Mox—a patchwork gang, survivors licking their wounds. The youngest gang in Night City, so weak most don't even notice them.
It started with Elizabeth 'Lizzie' Borden. She was a sex worker, looked down on, but because of her past she treated the working girls under her well.
Then a few Tiger Claw lieutenants came by. Cruel as ever, they brutalized several of the girls beyond recognition."
Arthur listened quietly. He'd spent plenty of time at that bar, so he was curious.
"In fury, in protection, in warning—whatever the reason—Lizzie killed them, then displayed their corpses.
But it was the height of the Tiger Claws' power. The end was tragic. Lizzie was murdered, giving her life to rally the women around her into open resistance.
All they gained was a pile of rubble. But on those ruins, they built a new bar—and the Mox was born."
Wakako paused, sipped her tea, wetting her lips.
"Sounds like your job involves these girls," Arthur said. He wasn't one to look down on women with hard lives. He was a cowboy, after all.
"I knew Lizzie. She was a fighter—never backed down.
When she faced the Tiger Claws, I hesitated.
When she came to me for help, I didn't know if I should.
But... in the end, she never came."