Arthur fell silent, frowning at V's serious expression.
"The bullet ripped a gaping hole in his chest..."
"Yeah, but too bad that hole wasn't in his head.
He was only half-alive with that half a brain anyway."
V slowly shook his head before adding,
"That bastard's taken worse and still managed to crawl back every time."
A long silence followed...
At last, Arthur stopped dwelling on whether the man was dead or not.
"We made it out too..."
He lifted his hand, his body still wrapped in bandages, then impatiently lay back down.
"The result isn't bad. Maybe not the best, but good enough for us."
"Damn right!!"
Rebecca, who had been standing nearby, jumped in, puffing her cheeks as she shouted.
"Next time, make sure that hunk of scrap goes to me!"
Vik's so-called "slow recovery" was actually much faster than Arthur had expected.
In less than two weeks, his injuries were almost completely healed.
By then, only Jackie was still stuck in a hospital bed.
"It's over... I'm screwed..."
Flat on his back with a bitter expression, he whined to Arthur.
"My mom found out about my injury."
Arthur's arms—especially his right one—were still wrapped in thick gauze.
According to Vik, it was the best way to keep the new skin from getting infected or peeling off.
"Well... look at the bright side. Maybe she'll cook you some nice healthy meals.
And take away your bike while she's at it."
Jackie's red Nazare hadn't been completely totaled. The shell was shattered, the engine and transmission split apart, but somehow the critical parts had survived intact.
By now, Jackie had sent it off somewhere—God knows where.
Arthur shrugged, dropping a heavy package onto Vik's desk.
The weight alone said it wasn't light.
When it had charged through the flames, the giant had clearly fried a ton of circuits. Even Vik admitted the shot it fired afterward was nothing short of a miracle.
But now, it needed a full rebuild.
Luckily, its core frame was made of that special dense alloy, untouched by the heat.
"Where's Vik?"
Arthur finally noticed after setting the package down, glancing over at Jackie.
"Hey... I sent him to deal with my mom.
Best not to let her see me like this."
Jackie was a mess, still hooked up to tubes, with artificial vessels and monitors connecting to his cyber-organs.
The sight was downright creepy—like something out of a twisted experiment.
A moment later, Vik walked in from outside.
He gave Jackie a weary glance before heading toward Arthur.
"All here?"
He handed Arthur a list of parts for repairing the sniper rifle.
"Yeah. Just like you said, none of it was hard to find."
Arthur pointed to the briefcase on the table, stepping aside to give Vik space.
He knew his way around guns, but only the kind that didn't need charging.
Vik unzipped the bag, glanced inside, then looked away with a sigh.
"...Sigh."
He turned toward Jackie, still bedridden.
"Even if we're friends... I can't hide a son's injuries from his mother."
The smile on Jackie's face froze instantly.
"So... where is she...?"
He asked in a strained voice.
"She just left... but she asked me about your condition."
Vik shrugged, offering a faint, almost careless line.
"Good luck."
Yeah, that was no comfort at all.
"Well, that's it. I'm finished..."
Jackie groaned.
"She's gonna lock me up at home and never let me out again..."
"Trust me, that'd be the best thing for you."
Arms crossed, Arthur's gravelly voice carried the trace of a chuckle.
"Focus on recovering. V says he's got business with me...
...and those two deserve to be tied to a hitching post."
...
Since it was still broad daylight, Lizzie's Bar was closed, so they met at a Chinese restaurant instead.
In a private room by the window, Arthur found V—though she seemed completely different.
It wasn't her looks, but her whole presence.
Her hair was still black, but cut short and swept to one side. Those sharp eyes were free now, unburdened, carrying an air of ease and recklessness.
And in stark contrast, she held a freshly lit cigarette between her fingers.
She didn't smoke it, just turned it back and forth, studying it.
Only when Arthur sat down across from her did she snap out of it.
"This thing... doesn't suit me."
She shook her head, snuffed the cigarette out, then flicked the pack sitting by her plate toward Arthur.
He caught it smoothly and tucked it into his coat pocket without hesitation.
"Oh, and this. I got it back for you."
V tossed him a brown paper bag—inside was the Swallow.
Rebecca bringing things back while saving someone? No chance. She was lucky if she remembered herself.
"She didn't just give this back for me."
Arthur's husky voice rumbled as he tucked the Swallow into the leather sheath at his waist.
"Abernathy's not dead... she got away."
V said it flatly, her tone devoid of emotion.
She didn't hate her opponent, and right now, the woman probably wasn't doing so well anyway.
"My old boss... thanks to this, he's on top of the world.
That's the phrase, right?"
Arthur shook his head. The phrase meant nothing to him.
"Anyway, he contacted me. Said he's got Kirk, asked if I wanted him."
V shifted into a more comfortable sprawl on the restaurant sofa.
She was wearing dark blue jeans—a far more youthful look than her old corporate outfits.
"Uh..."
Arthur tapped the table, frowning at the sunlight streaming through the window. Then he turned, meeting V's gaze with a serious look.
"You're still keeping in touch with that damned Arasaka?
...
Those bastards already screwed you over enough.
And Kirk? He's just a pawn. He doesn't even know your real name."
Arthur shook his head.
"If Arasaka wants to feed another mouth, let them.
But none of it... has anything to do with us."