Seeing Arthur's puzzled expression, V had no intention of keeping him in suspense.
"Remember? He left on his own… without taking his family.
Those two never spelled it out, but it's obvious—Nord betrayed us for the sake of his wife and daughter.
He was ready to give up on himself...
Arthur downed the fiery liquor. He wasn't drunk yet… at least his mind was still clear.
Rubbing his numb face, he asked in confusion, "Huh—
Didn't he defect to the Company? If Melanie was willing to let him go, why didn't he take his wife and kids and throw himself at the Company's mercy?"
"Looks like you still don't understand the Company..."
V explained, her expression relaxed.
"Look at me. That hellhole… there's no such thing as credit for past service. Only hard profit will earn you a smile from them.
It's clear the technology is secondary. What ZetaTech is really after this time is Melanie herself.
Nord has nothing to offer, which makes him a nobody. The Company won't even look at him."
She looked straight at Arthur, her certainty unshakable, and added,
"Trust me, that guy won't last a few days… If he's smart, he'll go out in a blaze, maybe draw ZetaTech's attention.
He's a traitor. If he doesn't make a move, does he really think his family will be welcomed back by the old organization? Does he think Melanie's a sheep? She's the kind who can bleed ZetaTech for profit.
It may look like Nord had a choice, but really… he never did.
Either crawl back to the Company as a common mutt—and they might not even take him back—or, if he wants the people he cares about to live well, he'll have to trade his life for it."
Arthur stayed quiet, nodding in understanding.
In the dim light, his eyes flickered as if recalling something.
As a leader, you can't be ruled by hatred or emotion. You have to make the decision that benefits the team most with what you've got.
Even when facing a traitor you hate to the bone, if they still hold value, you call them a hero—one everyone can believe in.
It's exploitation, cold and calculated. Turning waste into use."
In other words, that woman who seemed meek and frail was nothing like the weak figure she pretended to be.
Shaking his head, Arthur nudged the bottle forward, letting it clink softly against V's.
Her hoarse voice finally eased.
"You're right. But let's drink to this anyway."
Night and drunkenness melted into one, like neon lights refracted in a haze, spilling everywhere.
...
The next morning, waking with his head heavy, Arthur swayed a little before heading toward the nightstand.
That hangover feeling… he was used to it by now.
Scooping tap water into his hands, he splashed it over his face, finally waking up properly.
A shower was probably in order too. His clothes were stiff with dried Scavenger blood, leaving him uncomfortable all over.
When he stepped out of the apartment again, the sun was blazing, forcing him to squint.
The streets were as noisy as ever, with no hint of holiday spirit. Under the crushing weight of survival, few people had the energy for that.
In the elevator, the self-important host droned on endlessly, but nothing he said caught Arthur's interest.
He was headed to Vik's clinic, their crew's most visited spot. Using a clinic as a base felt unlucky, but… no one minded.
The streets boiled with noise, like a kettle left on the fire. Little China was the same as ever—orderly main streets standing alongside the patchwork of makeshift iron shacks.
Though it was winter, Night City never saw snow. The cold wind and the sun clashed endlessly, with neither side gaining ground.
Pushing open the door to the Misty's Esoterica, sunlight was cut off by the strange decorations inside. Arthur peeked in… Misty wasn't there.
"Maybe she went out with Jackie..."
Shrugging off the thought, Arthur stepped inside. Jackie's injuries had mostly healed days ago, but Vik still kept him under observation.
After all, multiple ruptured organs weren't the same as a surface wound.
Heading through the back door and down the stairs, Arthur hadn't even pushed open the door before voices reached his ears.
"Please...
Mom...
Trust me, I'm fine."
Jackie's booming voice filled the room—even his whining carried loud. And the only one who could make that big guy whine was, of course, his mom.
"You're clearly lying! You brat, I…
I don't want to get angry, but now! You're coming with me!
I won't say it again!"
A strong, commanding female voice rang out. As the door swung open, Arthur finally laid eyes on the mother so often mentioned by his friends.
She wore a deep red sweater under a sleeveless vest, her black hair framing a face with barely a trace of age… hardly surprising, given modern medicine had extended lifespans.
Beside her, Jackie grinned broadly when he saw Arthur, his thick arms stretching his leather jacket as he slung it over his mother's shoulder.
"Forget that, Mom!
Come meet my new brother—Arthur Morgan.
Cool name, right?"
Catching his mother's stern expression, Jackie ducked his head like a scolded child.
"Please, Mom, I'm an adult now."
"But you're not old enough to die yet!
...
Sigh..."
Finally venting her frustration, she turned to Arthur.
"Alright... I'm sure Jackie's given you plenty of trouble. Maybe you can stop by my bar for a drink—on me."
As she greeted him, the tension eased from her face, showing that Mama Welles was, at her core, a gentle soul.
"Uh… not really... ah… right...
I mean, Jackie's been a big help."
Arthur's response was awkward. Faced with an unfamiliar elder, his tongue wasn't nearly as sharp as usual. Maybe he was simply better suited to dealing with rougher company.
...
(70 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser