What met her eyes was a large hand pulling her from the icy water. Arthur glanced around at the sparks still sputtering from the heads of the netrunners. "They don't look too good—like they've got gunpowder stuffed in their skulls."
"Dead as dead can be..." V gasped, greedily drinking in the warmth of the air, her whole body still trembling. "Guess their so-called savior didn't care much for them... wiped them all out in one sweep."
"I thought things were going pretty smoothly." Arthur looked her over, still shaking uncontrollably, then cast a glance at the ruin-like exit. "The folks outside probably won't be thrilled about letting us walk away."
But he didn't dwell on whatever danger might be waiting. Instead, he asked, "So... did you get anything useful?"
"Kind of... yeah..." V clutched her head, speaking haltingly. "Crazy, right? Two people from over fifty years ago ended up helping me... though neither of them is exactly human anymore.
We need Arasaka... we need Mikoshi... and of course it has to be Arasaka's crown jewel. Figures—I'm cursed when it comes to that company."
Arthur couldn't help recalling his two run-ins with Arasaka—neither pleasant... not to mention Adam Smasher, who had nearly finished him both times.
That brute loved nothing more than lying in wait, then striking hard when you least expected it. That was how a gunfighter's life worked: if you were good at hiding, even a half-starved vagrant could pull the trigger from the shadows.
"So... we going after Arasaka now?" Arthur rubbed his chin, his brow deeply furrowed.
"Save the hardest job for last. We can still check in with our chief engineer first—hopefully that suit knows what he's doing.
Oh, and don't reach out to our partners yet. No point rattling the snake." Stretching, she finally shook off most of the chill, though the dampness clinging to her body left her miserable. The cave-like chamber probably had climate controls, but she wasn't feeling them.
After a quick talk, and once V had recovered enough strength, the group started toward the exit.
...
Things outside were far from peaceful. Every Voodoo Boy had gathered, clearly aware of what happened to their netrunners. A firefight broke out along the way—loud and fierce, though ultimately one-sided.
Arthur handed V the katana Wakako had once gifted him. He'd never used it, but in her hands it cut a brutal path. With her muscle-enhancing Cyberware backing every strike, the destruction was staggering.
Only Placide might have stood in their way. But before he could spit out a threat, a neat little hole appeared in his skull, smoke curling from it.
Arthur's pistol was still warm in his hand. This time, Placide's cranial implant hadn't stopped the bullet.
"These guys' skills... I've seen worse." Arthur scanned the dim church carefully, making sure no ambush remained, then pushed through the double iron doors.
"A bunch of netdogs... they're only tough with wires plugged into their heads. Face-to-face? Even those brainless Animals could snap their necks."
As for saving V, they were no closer to a solution...
Jackie and V headed out again, preparing for the AV raid. The ambush would take place in the Badlands—safer there, where Kang Tao reinforcements would be slow to respond.
Which meant they needed someone who knew that stretch of the Badlands...
After all, an AV wouldn't just stop on its own.
Well... unless the VIP inside demanded a bathroom break. Then all bets were off.
The crew wasn't strapped for cash. Last year's jobs had all gone smoothly, and nobody was hurting for eddies. Arthur couldn't understand why they'd go looking for trouble with Arasaka.
It felt like everyone's brain had short-circuited at once. And Arthur knew that feeling too well.
...
Three days after the Pacifica trip, in Westbrook.
After a stretch of pointless drinking, Arthur drifted into wandering Night City. Sometimes, he almost liked the aimlessness.
He rode a plain motorcycle, an old cruiser model with the handlebars close to the rider's chest. Picked it up cheap through a fixer—the thing wasn't in demand, so he'd gotten it for next to nothing.
Didn't matter to Arthur whether it was new or old—it was his first time on one either way.
He ended up at a park—a rare luxury in the wealthy districts. You'd never find something like this in Watson.
At its center stood a massive Buddha statue, each of its six arms holding something aloft. Arthur lounged on a public bench, his gaze wandering aimlessly.
That statue... he felt like he'd seen it before.
The park was quiet—no birdsong, no animals. Just the greenery swaying gently. A different kind of peace.
Beneath the statue, several monks sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation, ignoring the flow of passersby.
"Sir... your attire... it's unusual."
The sudden voice behind him made Arthur turn sharply.
The speaker was an aged middle-aged man. Odd phrasing, but it fit him perfectly.
His face was lined, his hair white, but his posture was upright and steady. He wasn't bulky, but he looked healthy. He wore a jet-black monk's robe—similar to those worn by the others beneath the statue, though only in color—and a pair of dark, opaque sunglasses covered his eyes.
"Uh... well..." Arthur raised a hand, unsure how to address him.
"Just call me... Monk." The man smiled faintly, as if sensing Arthur's uncertainty.
"Ah." Arthur nodded, sliding over on the bench. "Care to sit for a while?"
"Thank you... truly." The man's expression hardly shifted, but his presence was pleasant—friendly without being ingratiating. "Few people ever invite me to sit. Most just hurry by."
"It's nothing... and... Monk..." Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. The title sounded odd on his tongue, but his own attempt at politeness didn't feel much better. "Maybe they're all just too busy."