The girl with the black bob haircut slid naturally into the seat beside Arthur Vale.
Her cheek tattoos curved like cat whiskers, subtle but deliberate. Her long, straight legs crossed casually as she rested her chin on one hand and tilted her head toward him.
"Bloody Mary. No chili water," she told Loki calmly. "And yes, put it on his tab."
Arthur glanced sideways.
Sasha Yakovlevova.
First proper face-to-face meeting.
"Nice to finally meet you in person," she said with a faint smile. "Season."
Arthur took a slow sip of his drink.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he decided to test something.
"A hacker this cute and talented…" he said lightly. "Have you found a team yet?"
Sasha shook her head without hesitation.
"No. My rates are already low. If I split with teammates, I'd only get two or three hundred eurodollars per job. That's not worth it."
Arthur paused.
She was honest.
Blunt.
New to the city—but not naive.
"Right," he said thoughtfully. "Newcomers get thirty percent. Middlemen take their cut. And you're not getting high-tier contracts yet."
Sasha rolled her eyes slightly.
"Don't remind me."
Arthur leaned back.
"I happen to have work. If you complete it, you get twenty-five percent. Total won't be less than two thousand."
Sasha froze for half a second.
"Two thousand?"
Her cybernetic eye flickered faintly.
"Deal. What is it? Another Scavenger raid?"
Arthur smiled faintly.
"No. I removed twenty neural interfaces from Scavengers last night. They're in my warehouse. I need someone to crack them and extract the funds."
Sasha didn't even pretend to hesitate.
She grabbed the Bloody Mary and downed it in one gulp.
"Season, you are officially a good person."
Arthur blinked.
"Good person?"
"Yes," she said firmly. "You didn't lowball me. And you didn't hide the cut structure."
Arthur didn't respond to that.
He wasn't generous.
He was investing.
"Let's go," she said enthusiastically. "Time is money."
---
They stepped into the workshop.
Bain noticed immediately as Arthur pulled out the storage container filled with extracted neural interfaces.
Portable refrigeration case.
Sealed.
Secure.
Bain walked closer—then saw Sasha clearly.
Black bob hair.
Confident posture.
Hacker gear.
He immediately recognized her as the netrunner from last night.
He gave Arthur a slow, exaggerated grin.
Arthur ignored him completely.
"Focus on your own fun," he said without turning.
Bain laughed and retreated.
---
Outside, Sasha had already mounted her modified motorcycle—blue and purple neon strips glowing along its frame.
"I'll lead. H10 Megabuilding in Watson."
Arthur nodded and entered the captured Vito van.
The engine hummed softly.
Under dim streetlights, the two vehicles moved through quiet streets.
Motorcycle ahead.
Van behind.
Night City at this hour felt strangely peaceful.
Arthur rolled down the window slightly.
Cool air brushed his face.
For the first time since arriving in Night City, the pressure in his chest loosened.
He wasn't surviving anymore.
He was building.
---
"Season! We're here!"
Sasha's voice pulled him back to reality.
He parked the Vito.
In front of them stood the massive H10 Megabuilding.
Concrete.
Steel.
Crowded windows glowing faintly.
Watson district.
Working-class territory.
Arthur stepped out.
"H10," he murmured.
Sasha leaned against her bike.
"You've never been here?"
"Not yet."
She grinned.
"Welcome to my humble fortress."
---
Inside the building, elevators groaned as they ascended.
Sasha carried the portable case herself.
"You really trust me," she said suddenly.
Arthur looked at her calmly.
"Should I not?"
She shrugged.
"Cracking neural wallets isn't complicated. But you're handing me all of it. If I disappear…"
Arthur cut her off gently.
"You won't."
Sasha stopped walking for half a second.
"Confident."
"Calculated."
They reached her apartment.
Small.
Compact.
But filled with cables, screens, and custom rigs.
A netrunner's nest.
Sasha placed the case on her desk and opened it.
Twenty neural interfaces.
She whistled softly.
"You really cleaned them out."
"They deserved worse."
She didn't argue.
Instead, she connected the first interface to her rig.
Her cybernetic eye glowed brighter.
Green code cascaded across multiple screens.
Her fingers moved rapidly across holographic panels.
Arthur watched silently from behind.
Minutes passed.
Then—
"First wallet cracked."
She turned slightly.
"Thirty-eight hundred."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"Already?"
She grinned.
"I told you. Not difficult."
One by one, the interfaces surrendered their encrypted data.
Funds transferred into controlled accounts.
Arthur watched numbers accumulate.
Five thousand.
Eight thousand.
Fifteen thousand.
By the time the twentieth interface was processed—
Sasha leaned back and stretched.
"Total extracted: 26,400 eurodollars."
Arthur did quick mental math.
Twenty-five percent.
"Your cut is 6,600."
Sasha blinked.
"You're serious?"
"I don't joke about contracts."
She stared at him for several seconds.
Most people would renegotiate.
Delay.
Invent excuses.
He didn't.
"You really are weird," she muttered.
Arthur allowed a faint smile.
"I prefer efficient."
She transferred the amount to her account.
Her expression shifted subtly.
This wasn't just money.
This was opportunity.
"You know," she said thoughtfully, "most gangs would either threaten me or short-change me."
Arthur crossed his arms.
"I'm not most gangs."
Silence settled between them briefly.
Sasha leaned forward slightly.
"So what are you building, Season?"
Arthur looked at the city lights visible through the window.
"Structure."
She tilted her head.
"That's vague."
"It's supposed to be."
She laughed softly.
"You don't talk like someone from River Valley."
"Good."
She stood and walked toward the window beside him.
Watson's neon glow reflected in her artificial eye.
"You helped me tonight," she said quietly. "Not just with money."
Arthur didn't respond.
She continued.
"If you ever need a netrunner on long-term contract…"
Arthur looked at her.
"Are you offering?"
She smirked.
"Maybe."
Arthur considered carefully.
She was talented.
Independent.
Not yet tied to Maine's crew.
This window of time was short.
"I don't own people," he said calmly. "But I value partnerships."
Sasha nodded slowly.
"Then let's call it that."
Partnership.
Not control.
Not exploitation.
Arthur extended his hand.
She hesitated only briefly before shaking it.
Her grip was firm.
Warm.
"Season," she said softly.
"Yes?"
"You really are a good person."
Arthur looked at her quietly.
No.
He wasn't.
He was just careful about where to invest.
Outside, Night City pulsed endlessly.
Inside H10, two young players made a quiet agreement that would shift more than they realized.