Arthur carried two boxes and stepped into the pool of blood on the ground, continuing forward without a care. His soles were stained with blood, but it didn't bother him. After all, if someone sprinkled luminol reagent over Night City, the entire place would glow like a massive neon lightstick.
He felt a little puzzled. According to the theory of evolution, idiots like Silly Qwen should have been naturally eliminated. Yet, despite the years passing, the number of fools in Night City had only increased. This went against all logic—Darwin himself would be rolling in his grave.
A short walk later, Arthur arrived outside a small house. He glanced up at the window above, activated the prosthetic enhancements in his legs, and jumped straight into the room.
Before the bald man inside could react, Arthur had already knocked him out.
There was no need for small talk. If the priest hadn't requested him to bring this guy to the client, Arthur would have just put a bullet in his head.
Jumping out of the window once more, he returned to the alley and tossed the unconscious man to the ground. The entire process was smooth and efficient. A few people wandering nearby saw it happen, but they all kept their heads down, staring at their worn-out shoes.
It was clear they had no interest in getting involved.
William stood nearby, silently smoking, hoping Arthur would complete the mission successfully. At the same time, he debated whether he should go into hiding.
If the mission failed, his identity as the employer might be exposed.
In Night City, there was no official verification process for cyberpunks, so their professional ethics were flexible. Some were even known to deceive their clients. In this city, money ruled everything. Having a middleman was useful, but it also meant being associated with all kinds of scum.
Suddenly—
Boom!
A body was thrown directly in front of William, splattering blood all over him. He froze for a moment, then looked up and saw Arthur.
"Why are you so fast?" William asked in shock.
Arthur: "..."
Sure enough, young kids were annoying. Couldn't they phrase things better? Calling a man "fast" was just inappropriate.
Still, Arthur let it slide. William was just a kid, after all.
Arthur dragged over an old sofa, sat down, crossed his legs, and looked at William. The boy had already revealed an eerie grin and reached into his coat, pulling out a shotgun with the words "Thunder" etched into it.
Arthur wasn't superstitious—he didn't believe in supernatural powers. The reason the weapon was called "Thunder" was that it was an electromagnetic shotgun. It was a cheap but powerful weapon, bulky but deadly.
Even a beast like Adam Smasher would groan in pain if hit by it.
The shotgun's exposed electrical arcs were a result of cost-cutting; the protective cover had been removed. Sometimes, the user got electrocuted as well—but that was just bad luck or sheer stupidity.
William raised the shotgun and aimed it at the unconscious man.
Arthur, intrigued, asked, "What exactly did this guy do to you? Stole your dad's ashes or something?"
William didn't respond. Instead, he pulled the trigger.
Boom!
The first shot turned the man's head into a mist of blood and brain matter.
But William didn't stop. He reloaded and fired again.
And again.
And again.
Chunks of flesh splattered everywhere as he emptied every shell he had. Only when he had fired his last round did he exhale deeply, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
Despite the deafening noise, the streets of Night City remained silent. No one came to check. No one called the NCPD. To the locals, it was probably just firecrackers going off.
People here were simple like that.
William pulled off his baseball cap, revealing his bizarre haircut.
Arthur nearly burst out laughing.
Originally, William's hair had been normal, but the middle section of his head had been shaved completely bald, leaving the sides full and bushy.
It was an inverted "U" shape—almost comically symmetrical with David's hair, which was the opposite, shaved on the sides and thick in the middle.
"This bastard broke into my house a few days ago," William began, his voice filled with anger. "Do you know how much money poor people in the slums have? Nothing! No supplies, no cash!"
He clenched his fists.
"But this psycho, after realizing I had nothing to steal, took an electric clipper out of his pocket, tied me up, and told me I was too poor to exist! Then, he shaved my damn head as a punishment!"
Arthur scratched his own head, speechless.
He had underestimated how deranged some people in Night City could be.
How did this make any sense? If you can't steal anything, just leave! Why take the time to shave someone's head?
And even crazier—William had spent a small fortune hiring Arthur just to get revenge over a haircut?
Arthur glanced at the shredded corpse on the ground.
Shaking his head, he sighed. This was overkill.
Not that he thought William's actions were too extreme. No, what bothered Arthur was that William had wasted money.
In the slums, the money William spent hiring him could have kept him fed for half a year.
All that, just to settle a grudge over a haircut?
"You do realize he didn't steal anything from you," Arthur pointed out. "Spending that much money just for revenge—was it really worth it?"
But William waved him off, his expression still burning with rage.
"Who said he didn't steal anything? That bastard stole my entire youth!"
Arthur blinked.
William continued, gritting his teeth, "Because of this, my classmates laughed at me all day yesterday. My girlfriend broke up with me. Even my so-called 'big brother' doesn't want to be seen with me anymore!"
Arthur went silent, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
So that was why the priest had emphasized the importance of "youth" when accepting this job.
Thinking about it, it made sense. In William's school, mostly filled with Valentino gang members, any embarrassing incident became a city-wide joke.
If William hadn't retaliated, he'd have lost all respect within Valentino.
Spending money on revenge was a strategic move—it restored his reputation, even if it meant going broke for a while.
When the gossip faded, William would once again be seen as someone to be feared.
Arthur had to admit—the kid wasn't as dumb as he looked.
But that wasn't his problem. Arthur stretched, yawning, and stood up.
"Alright, then. The job's done. Call the priest and tell him to send the payment."
Glancing at the time, Arthur saw it was just past one in the afternoon. His stomach growled.
Maybe Mrs. Wells had some real corn back at the bar.
The synthetic corn in Night City was disgusting. It smelled like corn but tasted like chewed-up slippers.
Lost in thought, Arthur turned to leave, his arms still clutching the two boxes.
BAM!
He collided with something—soft and warm.
Arthur froze.
Was this it? His fateful encounter? A bloody love story unfolding in the streets of Night City? Could it be that, as a time traveler, his luck had finally turned around?
Excited, he looked up—only to see a familiar face.
Melissa.
She crossed her arms and smirked at him.
"Aren't you going to explain yourself?" she teased.
Arthur scratched his nose awkwardly.
"If your heart is as soft as what I just touched," he said with a grin, "I think you should forgive me."
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