"Arthur, you're the number one troublemaker in Night City... Remember this—if you stir up chaos again, I'm taking the hood off my head!"
The call ended with a furious click, but even Maman's exasperation couldn't hide the fact that she had agreed to Arthur's request. In truth, the entire situation wasn't as severe as she made it out to be. Blowing up a server ten years ago? That was practically ancient history by Night City standards.
In this city, survival demanded compromise. Maman understood that better than most. With the NCPD already poking around, she had no interest in inviting more scrutiny—especially since she didn't know just how deep Arthur's connection ran with Melissa, the madwoman from the Terrorist Mobile Team. Women in love were dangerous. That, at least, she respected.
Arthur stood in silence, cigarette burning slowly between his fingers, staring out into the industrial wreckage that was now his factory. If he was the city's biggest troublemaker, then what did that make Maman? He scoffed at the absurdity of the title. Night City had truly lowered its standards.
"Is everything settled?" came a calm, sharp voice from behind.
Arthur turned to see Lucy leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand, looking far too composed after the day they'd just had.
He nodded. "The Voodoo Boys won't be bothering us. But this dump? Still needs a lot of work. I'll have to talk to the Animal Gang about equipment. That won't be fun."
He gave a bitter chuckle. "Starting a business in Night City... all it makes is debt and headaches."
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Hard-earned money, huh? Give it a week—once those brainchips hit the market, it'll be dirty money flowing in."
Arthur smirked but didn't respond.
Lucy took a final drag from her cigarette and flicked it to the ground. "Now that we're done here, I'm out. As for your 'program'—find someone else. If I ever work with you again, I'll eat my own words and become a dog."
She turned to leave, her boots echoing across the cracked concrete.
Arthur watched her, the corner of his mouth twitching. The day had been chaos from start to finish—Voodoo Boys, MaxTac, and now the Animals on the horizon. Lucy had handled it all like a pro, but her nerves were clearly frayed. He couldn't blame her.
Then a breeze drifted through the open factory door, brushing Lucy's hair aside.
Arthur's eyes locked onto the glint of tech embedded at the base of her skull.
He took a step forward, voice casual but pointed. "Lucy... you wouldn't want Arasaka finding out you're in Night City, would you?"
She stopped mid-step. Her body tensed instantly.
A split-second later, a fine monowire snapped out from her wrist, humming with lethal energy. She turned, crouched into a combat stance, eyes blazing with fury.
"How do you know about that?" she hissed.
Lucy had gone to great lengths to bury her past. Her fear of Arasaka could've been dismissed as common paranoia—half the city shared it. And she'd only met Arthur twice. Not even Maman's crew had figured her out.
And yet, somehow... he knew.
Arthur calmly lit another cigarette. "That interface at the back of your head? It's custom Arasaka tech. Only their internal staff use it. Your model? That's used by their so-called 'graphics card girls.'"
Lucy blinked. "Graphics card girls?"
Arthur smirked. "Nickname. You processed data for them—like a living GPU. You boiled brains for intel."
Her pulse quickened. That detail was too accurate. Still, she didn't lower her weapon.
"How do you recognize that tech?"
Arthur took a slow drag. "You think researching cyberpsychosis doesn't come with body dissections? I've been doing this for years. Learning tech was part of the deal."
Lucy's stomach turned. He made it sound so casual—dissecting corpses, reverse-engineering implants. But this was Night City. Horrors like that were just part of the daily grind.
The two stared at each other in silence. Lucy's mind raced, weighing the danger. Arthur could report her to Arasaka. They'd come for her—fast and without mercy. But why would he blackmail her?
Finally, she withdrew her wire, her voice low and bitter. "I swear... one day, I'm going to kill you."
Arthur shrugged. "Get in line. But first—"
He paused, stroking his chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Didn't you say something about becoming a dog if you worked with me again?"
Lucy's face went blank. No. He wouldn't.
Arthur leaned closer, grinning. "Remind me. What sound does a dog make again? Haven't heard one in years. Refresh my memory."
"You're joking," Lucy said flatly.
Arthur didn't respond.
Lucy stood there, her expression unreadable. Then, with the grace of a woman choosing dignity over pride, she lit another cigarette and took a long drag.
"Woof. Woof. Woof."
Monotone. Robotic. Lifeless.
Arthur clicked his tongue. "Disappointing. Where's the spirit? That bark was dead on arrival."
Lucy glared at him. "Oh, forgive me, Lord Arthur. Was I not obedient enough?"
"Exactly," he replied smugly.
She rolled her eyes. "And here I thought threatening women to get your way made you a villain."
"In Night City?" Arthur grinned. "It makes me a survivor."
They stared at each other for a long second—tension still crackling like a live wire—before Lucy turned away, muttering under her breath.
Arthur watched her leave, chuckling to himself. The world might be on fire, but somehow, it all still felt like a win.
In a city where trust was suicide and everyone had something to hide, Arthur wasn't just surviving—he was playing the game better than most.
And Lucy?
She was already back in it, whether she liked it or not.
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