The echo of a single gunshot, followed by the soft splatter of blood, marked the end of Joanne's wretched existence. Her body slumped to the floor, and the silence that followed was heavy with finality.
Arthur didn't flinch. He simply lit a cigarette and took a long drag, exhaling slowly. In Night City, death was just part of the background noise. The dead don't matter. Only the living remember—and even that is temporary.
He had barely taken his first puff when his holo-screen lit up, vibrating with an incoming call. He frowned slightly—Rogue.
"Shit..." he muttered. "Now what?"
He hadn't expected Rogue to call, not this soon, not after he'd just dealt with the mess. That could only mean one thing—more mess.
Saul was still rambling behind him, going on about how Arthur's stories could make a bestselling book. Arthur half-listened as he stepped into the elevator with Saul and the survivor. As the doors slid shut, he answered the call.
"What's up, Queen of the Afterlife?" Arthur said with his usual smirk. "Miss me already?"
"Arthur, what the hell have you done now?" Rogue's voice was sharp and irritated. "I heard Joanne's dead. Tell me it's not true."
Arthur shrugged, though she couldn't see it. "Oh, she's dead alright. Very artistically, might I add. I'd give the scene a solid eight out of ten."
"You idiot," she hissed. "You really went and did it. Do you have any idea who she was?"
"I figured she was just another suit in biotech," Arthur replied casually, stepping off the elevator as it reached the lobby.
"She was a senior director, Arthur. A platinum trauma team subscriber. Do you even know what that means?!"
Arthur paused, the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. "...You've got to be kidding me."
"Nope. Platinum membership. She dies, the trauma team dispatches a kill squad to secure the scene and confirm status. If they don't find her alive, they light the place up like it's the Fourth Corporate War all over again."
Arthur immediately slammed the call shut, eyes widening. "Down!" he yelled, grabbing Saul and the survivor and dragging them under the marble front desk.
Seconds later, a wall of gunfire ripped through the building's entrance. Heavy-caliber slugs tore through walls, ceiling, glass—everything. A full metal storm.
The trauma team had arrived.
"Zhuo!" Arthur cursed, flattening his body to the cold floor. "I swear, if I make it out of this, I'm buying a goddamn alarm system!"
Saul was still stunned. "What the hell kind of insurance sends a kill team?!"
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Welcome to Night City. This is the platinum package—rescue, revenge, cleanup, and if needed, revenge for the revenge."
The survivor, pistol clenched in both hands, looked equally horrified and impressed. "They're serious about customer service, huh?"
Arthur peeked over the edge of the desk. "Yeah, serious enough to park their AV on someone's car just to save five seconds."
As if on cue, a loud crunch sounded from outside—metal against metal. The trauma team's AV had just landed. On someone's car. Probably crushing it.
"You think anyone was inside?" Saul asked.
Arthur just shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Company policy says if you're in the way, you're fair game. You'll get a courtesy payout. If you're lucky, a thousand eurodollars."
The engines outside finally powered down. The gunfire stopped—but that was worse. It meant they were preparing to breach.
"They're not done yet," Arthur warned. "They think Joanne might still be alive. They won't leave until they see the body."
"And when they see us?" Saul asked grimly.
"Depends. Did you check the 'revenger add-on' in your platinum subscription?" Arthur joked, then rolled his eyes. "Of course not, none of us can even afford a chrome nail."
Footsteps. Heavy boots. Four, maybe five operatives—moving in formation.
Arthur tapped his wrist, pulling up a quick map of the building. There was an access corridor to the left, maybe a maintenance shaft beyond that.
"We've got one chance," he muttered. "We hit the corridor on the left. Lucy fried the internal cameras, but the trauma team probably brought external sensors. We move fast, keep low."
The survivor tightened his grip on his pistol, his jaw set. "I'm ready to die."
"That's the spirit," Arthur muttered. "Let's just not test that today, yeah?"
He signaled. They broke from cover.
Bullets immediately sprayed the space they had just occupied. One round grazed Saul's arm, tearing his sleeve. Another chipped a corner off the reception desk.
Arthur dragged them down the left hall, sprinting toward the service shaft. He kicked open the door, motioning for the other two to get inside.
"Hurry!"
They clambered through the tight space, one by one. The smell of wiring, oil, and coolant filled their nostrils.
Behind them, the trauma team shouted warnings.
"Stand down! You're interfering with a medical emergency!"
Arthur shouted back. "Patient's been discharged! Permanently!"
"Blank, they're serious," Saul whispered. "They're coming in."
"Don't stop!" Arthur hissed, kicking at a vent grille ahead. "This isn't about survival. This is about escaping customer service!"
He finally kicked open the exit vent and spilled into a back alley. The other two followed.
Outside, the rain had started again. The skies above Night City poured like they were trying to wash the sin off its neon-soaked streets.
Arthur looked up, catching his breath. "Alright, let's never do that again."
The survivor chuckled dryly. "You call this a normal job?"
Arthur just smirked. "Platinum membership, buddy. You get what you pay for."
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