Judy's gaze lingered on Arthur's arm, her expression shifting as she studied the gleaming mechanical limb. Arthur noticed and chuckled softly, already understanding the unspoken weight behind her stare. Judy was still young—sharp, sure—but ultimately sheltered by the Mox gang's embrace. She believed she'd seen enough of Night City to understand its darkness, but in truth, she'd only skimmed the surface. She hadn't felt blood mist on her face, hadn't breathed the metallic tang that replaced air when the killing started.
Trying to defuse the tension, Arthur leaned back and smiled. "This," he said, raising his arm slightly, "is a genuine Mantis Blade. You won't find this model in any store. Experimental prosthesis—gifted by a 'friend' from the company. They scrapped the project because it fried too many brains."
Judy smirked, unconvinced. "A friend, huh? Must've been real tight with this 'friend.'" She didn't buy it, and Arthur didn't blame her. She probably thought he'd looted the blades off some corpo corpse. Technically, she wasn't wrong. The Mantis Blades were Arasaka tech—swiped during a black op that spiraled out of control. What she didn't know was how much they'd contributed to his downward spiral into cyberpsychosis.
"You've got a lot of brothers, huh?" Judy asked, switching gears. "But the one you pulled this data from? His brain's practically a void. Only thing he remembered was getting 'taught a lesson' by you and blowing someone's head off. That—and relieving himself on loop. I deserve hazard pay for sitting through that."
Arthur let out a sheepish exhale of smoke. "That's my brother for you," he muttered.
Judy continued, "He owns property in Pacifica—some kind of old factory. If you track him down, you might be able to get it transferred."
"Pacifica?" Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That place is a wasteland."
"Apparently, he bought into the freehold craze. Thought he could flip it someday."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "And that's how he lost his mind. Makes sense now."
Judy chuckled. "The funny thing? He's still paying taxes on it. Somehow. If he stops, the city'll seize it. But he hasn't missed a single payment."
Arthur sighed. "That place has better odds turning into a beachfront resort than becoming profitable."
He stood and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. "Alright. Cut the parts showing me taking him down. Anything that links me to the mess—delete it. Keep his rampages, clean it into a digestible BD, and put it up for sale."
Judy's face soured. "That's twisted, Arthur."
"We split it seventy-thirty. I get seventy."
She crossed her arms. "Why not take it to Jimmy Kurosaki? This kind of garbage is his bread and butter."
"Because you're better than Jimmy," Arthur said with a smirk. "You're an artist. And real artists? They push boundaries."
"Push boundaries?" Judy scoffed. "What, I gotta be a pervert now?"
"Exactly," Arthur deadpanned. "Only a pervert can understand what perverts want. You've got the talent, Judy."
Rolling her eyes, Judy relented. "Fine. But only because I want you out of Lizzie's before someone mistakes you for a relic."
Arthur grinned. "One last thing—I want a copy of the original. For my kid."
Judy blinked. "You're giving this... to your kid?"
Arthur shrugged. "Call it a warning. He watches too much Black BD. If he keeps it up, he'll end up like my brother. Or worse—like me."
Judy groaned and rubbed her temples. "Fine. But if your kid turns into a trauma case, it's on you."
Arthur leaned in, grinning. "You're the best, Judy."
She muttered under her breath as she turned back to her screen. Editing braindance footage wasn't just tedious—it was mentally grueling. You had to live inside the scenes, relive every moment. That's why most editors picked content they liked—it kept the madness manageable. This job, though? This one crawled under her skin. Still, she dug in, sorting through raw footage drenched in blood and chaos.
"You really let your kid watch Black BD?" she asked suddenly.
Arthur nodded. "Yeah. He got it from his mom's side."
"You know that stuff can trigger psychosis, right?"
Arthur grinned. "Exactly. That's why I'm giving him this. A real-time lesson in what not to become."
Judy sighed. "You're unbelievable."
By the time she was done, she handed him a refined version of the footage and a copy of the original. "Here. Take it and go before I change my mind."
Arthur mock-saluted, grabbed the files, and disappeared into the street.
Judy leaned back in her chair, lighting another cigarette, watching the neon flicker off her monitor. Arthur Scott—genius or madman? Maybe both.
But in Night City, those two were often the same thing.