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...
Arthur removed all four bullets from the holder. Their silvery sheen, traced with fine, orderly circuits, made them look like works of art.
One by one, he pressed the rounds into the magazine, though his focus wasn't on the task.
His eyes narrowed slightly, fixed on the sky.
The sun was already sinking westward, its red glow spilling across the city, forcing Arthur to squint.
With a sharp click, he locked the magazine into the receiver. Metal parts shifted and clamped tight around the iron box—nearly as long as a grown man's palm.
At the muzzle, three pairs of magnetic modules slid once around the squared barrel, completing a self-check of the magnetic rails.
The scope clicked open like a giant's eye, and with that, the rifle awoke.
Its cold muzzle aimed skyward, toward the flickering lights above.
Lying prone, Arthur's breathing was steady and slow. If not for his open eyes, he could have been mistaken for asleep.
...
In the stillness, the Blackwall unfurled in his mind once more.
The same chaotic static filled it, but this time, V's voice came through a little clearer.
"Are... are you in position?"
Her voice, muffled through the Blackwall, sounded robotic.
"I've got eyes on the checkpoint.
But there's bad news—it's almost dark..."
Arthur spoke as the last of the sunset faded. Soon the sky would be smothered in darkness.
"The timing was deliberate... to prevent a ground assault.
But... the red... it spreads... you'll see it..."
The signal cracked and cut off.
The crimson tide in Arthur's mind ebbed away, leaving no trace.
He waited. Time passed, and his vision filled only with black.
At night, Santo Domingo was perhaps the darkest corner of all Night City.
Take its bars, for example: ramshackle saloons slapped together from cheap materials, looking like relics from two centuries past.
Arthur stared into the darkness, outwardly calm. But on closer look, even his blinking was rare, deliberate.
Then, in the faintly lit perimeter ahead, a small red dot flickered into view.
Tiny, because it was far.
Without the Kiroshi Optics built into his eyes, he would have seen nothing more than that red speck.
He didn't fire. Instead, he freed a hand and reached for his wrist.
From it, he pulled the data cable he had almost never used.
The sensation was bizarre—like tearing a piece of himself out.
Suppressing the churn of discomfort, he plugged the cable into a port on the rifle's grip.
Even with the target marked, the darkness around it still posed a serious obstacle.
He had the nerve to fire immediately, but even more reason not to miss.
Settling back into position, a crimson silhouette filled the center of his scope.
Numbers and markers bloomed across the display—distance, wind speed, projected trajectory.
Dense red lines sketched the rough outline of an AV, hovering between blinking light points.
Likely undergoing inspection. Whatever the case, it was holding still—perfect news for a sniper.
Arthur exhaled the stale air in his lungs, the night breeze brushing the fine hairs along his arm. His brow tightened again.
Eyes narrowing, the world seemed to slow, falling into rhythm with him like a trusted partner.
The vast night sky framed the target. What had been no more than a speck now loomed large in his vision. It wasn't moving—but to Arthur, it felt as though it was drifting closer.
Hold your breath...
Time the heartbeat...
Pull the trigger with its rhythm.
"Whumm... whumm... whumm..."
Three shots cracked out, meteors chasing the moon, streaking into the night.
Bullets meant to pluck the strings of fate.
Arthur let out a long breath. He didn't glance at the results, nor at the empty cases scattered on the ground. He only hefted the massive rifle and sprinted up the slope toward the highway.
Time was still tight. He had to be there the instant the AV came down.
Doubt never entered his mind—he wouldn't miss.
...
Up above, cloaked in darkness, an AV sat at the inspection bay.
Warm yellow light filled the cabin—bright, but not blinding.
Abernathy reclined on the sofa, legs crossed, wearing a Braindance wreath traced with golden lines. She seemed lost in whatever she was viewing.
The cabin was hushed.
V rested on the opposite side, face calm, arms draped loosely at her sides...
If not for the faint swelling beneath the pale skin of her forearm, she could have passed for asleep.
"BOOM—"
The sudden blast hit like a stone through glass, shattering the quiet instantly.
Scarlet emergency lights bathed the cabin as a shrill alarm screamed.
The once-soothing AI voice was now panicked:
"ALERT! ALERT!
Left front engine offline.
ALERT—"
Before it could repeat, another blast thundered through.
"BOOM—"
This time from the rear.
"ALERT! ALERT—"
"Shit!"
Abernathy ripped off her Braindance wreath, roaring in fury.
"Emergency protocols—now! Get this thing moving!
Damn it, bitch, what the hell did you do?"
Even with her composure, Abernathy looked rattled, her usual polish breaking into raw anger. She triggered the failsafe first—only then turning on V.
Across from her, V slowly opened her eyes. She weakly lifted her hands and murmured:
"Look... I'm useless now... what could I possibly do?"
Her gaze, sharp with undisguised coldness, rested on Abernathy.
She bore little hate for this old rival—or more precisely, her superior's rival.
Perhaps her eyes were looking past Abernathy entirely... to Arasaka, looming behind her.
And to those hiding in Japan—
may they never set foot in Night City.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser