"I'm not one of those brainless Animals."
Arthur watched Jackie cover his embarrassment with a goofy grin and got a clearer sense of this so-called gang. Their reputation had to be rotten—if even someone as good-natured as Jackie didn't want anything to do with them.
Up ahead, through gaps in the roadside palms, sprawled an enormous commercial plaza. Towering malls circled the square like sentinels, spectacular in scale—if you ignored their exposed, unfinished frames.
Further south stood a strange, solitary mall. Wisps of some unidentifiable filaments floated beside it, while on the other side a massive wheel loomed higher than the building itself, like a giant waterwheel planted in concrete. From here, Arthur could see white smoke drifting from cracks in the structures, sometimes punctuated by bursts of fire.
"Yeah... real picture of civilization."
Arthur muttered, awestruck, as an airship hovered overhead, pouring firepower into the breach.
"Pacifica's basically lawless. A gang runs it, after all."
Jackie shrugged like it was the most normal thing in the world.
The car rolled onward. They needed to cross the district, but things didn't go as smoothly as they'd hoped.
Several nondescript cars boxed them in, sealing off their path. Arthur and Jackie's relaxed mood vanished instantly.
They hadn't even left the coastview district in central Pacifica—still solidly Voodoo Boys turf. And those Haitians weren't exactly known for their hospitality.
From the lead vehicle, the doors swung open. Several black men stepped out, circling a burly figure with tight braids pressed close to his scalp.
"Welcome to Pacifica, friends.
But it's only polite to give the locals a heads-up first."
He advanced confidently, his accent carrying a strange edge.
"Maldita sea... damn it, what now?
How the hell did these Voodoo Boys net-rats find us?"
Jackie cursed under his breath, already drawing the pistols at his waist as he leaned forward.
"Relax, everyone... Step out and we can talk this through calmly. Nothing bad needs to happen."
The burly man spread his hands as he paced closer. Outwardly, he didn't look ready to attack.
Arthur ducked lower, resting his arms on the console. Then he leaned toward Jackie and muttered:
"Damn it, Jackie. Stay in the car. I'll check it out."
In situations like this, the driver had to stay put. If a fight broke out, someone needed to be ready to hit the gas.
Arthur crouched, opened the door, and stepped out. He stayed just behind it, one arm resting on the top edge, eyes locked on the approaching group.
"Arthur Morgan, right? Hope we didn't pick the wrong guy.
Like I said, even if we've never met, we could still be friends.
Of course, that depends on your choice—but trust me, friendship's the best option."
He stopped at a careful distance. His accent was odd, his tone now carrying an unmistakable threat.
"I'm all for making friends.
But... look at you. This isn't exactly hospitality."
Arthur spread his hands, his arm leaning on the car door.
"We decide how we treat our guests!"
The man's voice dropped, his small eyes glinting coldly.
"Interesting...
Alright, let's cut the crap.
How did you get our names? How'd you track us down so precisely?
Don't tell me some Fixer sold us out. Sure, the guy who gave us this gig doesn't know us well, but I heard he's loaded."
Arthur tapped his fingers lightly on the doorframe.
"You ask a lot of questions, friend.
But my patience is thin. Fine—I'll tell you.
That Fixer kept things mostly clean, but he still had to send your files to the client.
And we Militech pros don't play by your street rules.
In a way... we're colleagues."
His already grim expression grew even darker.
"Alright, friends."
Arthur pushed his palms forward and stood straighter. A dry laugh rasped from his throat.
"Then tell me—what do you want with us?
Because as far as I know, this city doesn't run on rules."
"I know you're going after those dumb meatheads for something.
We're not so different... except we want them dead."
He stepped closer and opened one massive hand. Resting in his palm were two chips.
"Plug them in. Work with us. Win-win."
Arthur shook his head slowly, smiling without warmth.
"Cooperation, huh?
Heh... no. We don't need cooperation."
The refusal froze the air. Pupils narrowed. Arthur's right shoulder sank slightly.
"On our turf, you play by our rules.
Plug them in and work for us—or get lost."
The man's tone hardened. He stomped the ground, his towering shadow spilling over Arthur.
"Uh..."
Arthur lowered his head a fraction. The brim of his gambler's hat hid the killing intent in his eyes as he edged half a step back.
The tense standoff shattered in an instant—by gunfire.
Smoke curled from the barrel of the long-silent Revolver at Arthur's waist.
The bullet zipped through the rolled-down window, drilling straight into the heads of several men across the street.
But just as Arthur expected, the shot only left a small dent in the forehead of the burly leader.
"Jackie, drive! We need to break through first.
I'll handle these bastards!"
Maybe stunned by the hit to his skull, the man only snapped back to his senses as Arthur leapt into the battered sedan and slammed the door shut.
Jackie floored it. The engine roared, rear wheels spinning smoke and burning rubber into the man's face before the car shot away.
Yanking the wheel, Jackie aimed for the weakest point and smashed through, carving a path forward.
The burly man clenched his jaw and growled into his comm:
"Catch them. Kill them."
He squinted at the retreating car, fingers brushing the dent in his forehead.
...
The engine's vibrations and the rush of wind through the open window nearly forced Arthur's eyes shut.
Thankfully, the road was smooth enough to keep him steady. Strictly speaking, horseback jolted worse than a car.
But on a horse—especially a familiar one—even rough rides had rhythm.
In a car, without the wheel in his hands... it was different.
Leaning halfway out the window, Arthur fired nonstop at the pursuers, the Revolver spitting fire with each shot.
Then a sudden turn slammed his body into the frame. His arm cracked hard against the edge, and the gun nearly flew from his grip.
"Goddamn it!
You've got to be kidding me."
Arthur hauled himself up with a curse.
"Come on, what do you want me to do—drive off a cliff?"
Jackie shot back, feigning innocence.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
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