It was a paper notebook bound in leather.
In this era, such things weren't common, but they weren't expensive either. With Vik keeping an eye out, Arthur had managed to get one quickly.
"I'm alive again. Damn it—it makes no sense.
What luck. I've seen plenty of people off before. I wish they'd been as lucky.
Got a place, settled in. Everything's looking up, isn't it?
And my new brothers. Yeah… everything's looking up..."
A pencil scratched across the blank page that followed, sketching out a rough image of Vik's homemade operating table—its crooked frame, dim flooring, and faded walls.
Arthur paused, then drew again.
The lines twisted upward, forming a looming shadow across the paper.
It was his current shelter: the H10 Megabuilding.
Arthur slid the pencil between the pages and slowly closed the notebook.
...
Westbrook, inside a high-end Charter Hill apartment.
A man sat slumped on the bed, staring blankly at the closed door.
The cigarette between his fingers burned down to the tips, but he didn't even notice.
The room was dark, the curtains sealing out the daylight.
On the wall hung a family photo of three. Their bright smiles in the picture did nothing to ease the gloom.
When Jessica went missing, her father—a mid-level technician at Militech—had lost his grip on reality.
In desperation, he borrowed heavily from loan sharks and the New Federal Reserve, putting the apartment up as collateral.
This foothold in Night City had come at a steep price.
His wife had vanished to secure it, taken by Militech itself.
Now, with only his salary, he couldn't keep up with the debt. Foreclosure was coming.
He… felt powerless.
Inside, Jessica sat curled on the bed, staring blankly at the bright sky outside.
Charter Hill's residential blocks overlooked lush greenery.
In a city once scarred by nuclear strikes, such vegetation was a miracle.
She understood their situation. Her father worked overtime, yet still couldn't sleep. And none of it was his fault.
On the table lay a sheet of white paper. At the top, in bold letters: WITHDRAWAL APPLICATION.
That school, full of corporate brats and "friends" with fake smiles—she no longer wanted to play along.
Jessica might've been naive, but she wasn't a fool.
Last time, when trouble struck, the scavengers had come straight for her.
But that had been a meeting spot she herself had arranged with friends. She hadn't told anyone else.
Those people disgusted her—and the meaningless lessons even more so.
With her netrunning skills, she could help ease her father's burden, instead of wasting time at school and holding him back.
At the thought, Jessica shivered, her hand brushing the back of her neck.
To become a true netrunner, one who could stand on her own, she'd need a large data-port installed. The thought made her curl up tighter.
Ding—ding—
In the middle of her spiraling thoughts, an unknown comm pinged in her head. For a moment, she froze, scanning the room—then remembered the sound came from her neural link.
She answered quickly.
A deep male voice came through.
"May I speak with Ms. Jessica Taylor?
Your father is William Taylor, employed at Militech."
Jessica wrinkled her nose, forcing herself to stay calm. After a pause, she answered.
"Who are you?"
"I am the Special Operations Group Manager at Militech.
We know your family is under financial strain, and you're well-suited for a position we need filled. This could resolve your immediate troubles."
Her mind raced. She didn't know much about corporate games, but her last close call had taught her caution—don't trust easily.
"What kind of work?"
Say less, make fewer mistakes, she reminded herself.
"You'd serve as a netrunner for a special operations team—or directly under Militech.
Either way, with your skills, you'd be highly valued."
His tone carried subtle persuasion.
"This department is highly classified. Even within Militech, little is revealed.
You must keep it secret. Any leaks, and everyone involved would pay the price."
The words carried a veiled threat.
"Oh… um..."
Jessica fumbled, unaware she'd stepped into his verbal snare.
"My dad's here!"
She hung up.
Moments later, the door creaked open, a slice of sunlight cutting through the gloom.
As the light hit his face, the man forced a smile.
"What's wrong… sweetheart?"
"Dad, someone called me. Said they're from your company. They want to give me a job."
Jessica looked at her weary father with pity, silently encouraging herself. She would help him.
But William's reaction was far from hopeful. He jumped up, leaving the shadows behind.
"What happened? Tell me everything. Did they say which department?"
In the bright living room, William ignored the sting of light in his eyes. His voice was urgent.
"Special Operations Group Manager. That's what he said..."
Jessica repeated the call word for word, confusion plain on her face as she watched her father's anxious reaction.
She didn't understand. It was his company. Why react like this?
She had long forgotten that her mother, too, had once worked for Militech.
Hearing Jessica's words, William began pacing, muttering under his breath.
This "Special Operations Group" sounded far too much like the "Emergency Response Unit" that had taken his wife.
Snakes in the dark, these so-called departments were tied hand-in-glove with New United States—the government that had long coveted Night City.
Militech was one of the main pillars propping up that fragile nation. Their entanglements ran too deep to unravel.
As he thought, William made his decision: even if it cost him everything, he wouldn't throw his daughter into the fire.
"Listen… my girl."
He stopped pacing, his face solemn.
"Refuse this job outright. No matter what they say. They may threaten me, but that doesn't matter.
And… go find your friends, if you truly trust them.
This world is dangerous, I..."
When money troubles had first hit, Jessica had suggested working with Arthur and the others. William had flatly refused.
As a father, he wouldn't let his daughter fall into the merc world—a world where killing came cheap.
She was kind, even shy.
But he knew the truth: the conflict between Night City and New United States was a meat grinder. Anyone caught in it would be stripped bare.
He didn't know why she'd been targeted—but he would stop it.
William had faltered before, drowning in financial despair. But now, faced with life and death, his resolve hardened.
"Remember—you don't have much cyberware now. But if you ever get the chance, replace everything."
He drew a deep breath and rested his heavy hand on her shoulder.
It felt like half of what he wanted to say would never be spoken.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser