Rita left quickly, leaving Arthur alone with Judy. She leaned back in her chair, barely glancing at him as her fingers danced across the keyboard. "So, you're Susie's boy toy, huh?" she asked, tone casual but laced with amusement. Arthur nearly choked, feeling like someone had just grabbed him by the neck like a street-market rooster ready for slaughter. For all the things he liked about Night City, its unfiltered bluntness wasn't one of them.
"I'm just a regular at the bar," he said, raising both hands defensively. "Nothing more, nothing less. Don't go around spreading rumors—I've got a wife and kid." Judy smirked. "A serious guy, huh? That's rare in this city. Too bad seriousness doesn't mean much here. You know, at least 80% of the folks partying outside are married with kids too."
She spun her chair around to face him, eyes sharp and curious. Arthur dragged a nearby chair over, sat down, and lit a cigarette. "Listen," he began, exhaling a lazy puff of smoke, "today I had a little run-in with a cyberpsycho. Turns out he had a BD recorder wired into him. And trust me, cyberpsychos live... colorful lives. Thought there might be something valuable in that mess." Judy raised a brow, curiosity sparked.
"Anyway," Arthur continued, "I figured someone like you could clean up the footage, dig through the junk, and maybe find something worth selling. If I make anything off it, I'll use it to cover his medical bills. You know how it is—cyberpsychosis treatment costs more than a fixer's loyalty."
Judy chuckled at the pitch, more amused than convinced. Arthur had even jokingly called the target audience "toilets"—thrill-seekers addicted to danger and chaos. People like the Uzumaki Gang, jamming black-market hardware into their bodies without a second thought, just to feel something new before they fry their own brains.
"Alright," Judy said finally, leaning forward. "Send me the data. Let's see what kind of gold you think you've found." She gestured to the interface rig on her desk, and Arthur jacked in, transferring the BD recording directly from his neural storage. Once it was done, he wiped the local file from his memory. Better safe than sorry—especially with this kind of footage. Even if he was a cyberpsycho himself, he wasn't about to roll the dice on cross-contamination.
Judy moved fast, converting formats and loading up the data. She slipped on her BD headset and sank into the experience. Arthur sat back, watching her with quiet interest. Braindance tech wasn't new to him, but the science behind it still fascinated him—direct neural stimulation that allowed someone to live another's memories in full sensory detail. The concept was born in 2007, with a Japanese inventor's wild idea to transmit recorded brain data. By 2077, it had evolved into one of the most immersive, dangerous, and addictive technologies in Night City.
Judy didn't move for several long minutes. Arthur could only guess what she was seeing in there. Her face was unreadable—tense, focused, with occasional twitches of her brow or a curl of her lip.
When she finally pulled the headset off, her expression was a storm of confusion and exasperation. Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You alright?"
Judy didn't answer immediately. She grabbed a cigarette, lit it with a shaking hand, and took a long drag before muttering, "Hot damn. Where the hell did you get this?"
Arthur frowned. "What do you mean?"
Judy let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "At least 90% of that BD is just your lunatic peeing everywhere and flailing around with his... well, let's say his 'personal weapon' out. The only usable parts are the combat segments and a few interesting sequences. Honestly, if it weren't for those, I'd shoot you for wasting my time."
Arthur scratched his head, half-grinning. "Hey, it's not like I told the guy to be a freak."
Judy sighed, rubbing her temples. Despite her irritation, she wasn't actually mad. In truth, she was a little impressed—and maybe even a little disturbed. The combat scenes had shown Arthur's brutal efficiency in action. The way he moved—how he tore through enemies without pause—was terrifying. It wasn't just speed or strength. It was precision. Purpose.
"You know," she said, her voice softening, "you're not just strong. You're something else entirely. The way you fight... it's not human."
Arthur didn't reply, the air between them thickening. Judy leaned back, blowing out a slow stream of smoke.
"It makes sense, though," she went on. "The prosthetics. The instability. The cyberpsychosis. You're basically a walking bomb. If you ever lose control..." She trailed off, letting the implication hang.
Arthur gave a dry chuckle, trying to shake the weight of the moment. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. I've got enough problems without turning into a full-blown monster."
Judy smirked, the edge in her voice returning. "Just don't make me regret helping you. I'll edit the BD, clean it up, and get rid of the... unnecessary bits. You'll have it by tomorrow."
Arthur nodded with quiet gratitude. Judy was one of the few people in Night City who still gave a damn about doing right by others—on her terms, at least.
"Thanks," he said simply.
As she turned back to her work, Arthur leaned against the wall, letting the shadows stretch across the room. In Night City, trust was more valuable than eddies. And maybe—just maybe—he'd found a reason to keep trying.
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