The neon outside Night City never really slept.
But Arthur Vale preferred quiet.
After leaving the noisy Puff Bar, he returned to his workshop and dropped into a worn recliner. The leather creaked softly under his weight. For the first time that night, there was silence.
He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds.
Then he opened his agent and transferred 80,000 eurodollars.
Recipient: Viktor Vektor.
A message followed:
[Arthur: Dr. Viktor, I've paid the remaining balance for the cyberware modification. The extra 30,000 is a deposit for the Sandevistan I asked you to source. Let me know when it's available. Thank you.]
The reply came quickly.
[Viktor: Wow, Arthur. You rob a corpo vault or what? That's a lot of eddies in a few days. Not bad. I've got some channels for Sandevistan units. Not easy to find clean ones in Night City. But don't worry — a ripperdoc survives by having friends.]
A second message followed.
[Viktor: Starting out is always rough. Make connections. I've got a Zetatech shipment arriving soon. The Sandevistan model you want should be here in about a week.]
Arthur responded immediately.
[Arthur: Is 30,000 enough? If not, tell me how much more and I'll transfer it now.]
[Viktor: That's enough. I secured it for 27,500. The extra is channel fee. You're covered. Just call me when you're ready.]
Arthur leaned back again and exhaled slowly.
Zetatech supply lines.
Independent ripperdoc channels.
Viktor was old-school. Careful. Reliable.
It made sense.
Arthur lit a cigarette and stared at the smoke curling toward the ceiling.
So far, things were moving smoothly.
Puff Bar had become a foothold.
The potion business had started.
Bane was gaining reputation.
As long as he avoided stepping directly on corporate toes, survival in Night City was manageable.
As for siphoning money from corporate systems—
He smirked faintly.
Let them send as many Adam Smasher clones as they liked.
Destiny Church would deal with it when the time came.
---
Across town, Bane suddenly sneezed while driving.
"Must be all those girls still thinking about me," he muttered proudly. "Too handsome for my own good."
Back in the workshop, Arthur stood up and moved to the workbench.
Using materials collected from the tavern's supply room and his own stock, he began assembling another batch of diluted neural accelerators.
Ten minutes.
Ten doses prepared.
Each syringe carefully filled.
He labeled them with clean, simple tags.
[Destiny Potion]
[Mind Enhancement – Type II]
[Suggested Retail: €1888]
He paused, then smiled slightly.
Marketing mattered.
Perception shaped value.
He placed the syringes into a dark gray refrigerated unit, organizing them neatly.
Less than ten seconds later—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Arthur didn't even need to ask who it was.
A voice called from outside.
"Brother Arthur, it's Dorothy…"
"And Karim."
"Pavi too…"
Arthur sighed softly.
He already knew.
He opened the door.
Dorothy stood in front, face flushed from alcohol. The others behind her were clearly drunk and excited.
Before Dorothy could speak, Arthur raised a hand.
"You're here because you want upgrades. And you want them tonight."
Dorothy nodded quickly.
"I want to be stronger… Brother Arthur…"
Arthur rubbed his temple.
"Dorothy, come inside. The rest of you go home. Tomorrow I'll start cyberware replacements one by one. Not tonight."
A chorus of cheers erupted.
"I knew Arthur would agree!"
"Same combat setup as Bane!"
"Long live!"
The door closed.
Inside the workshop, Dorothy immediately began removing her jacket.
Arthur frowned.
"Dorothy. Installing neural chips doesn't require you to take off your pants."
Outside the door, the group that had been about to leave froze.
Then their curiosity exploded.
They quietly returned and pressed their ears to the door.
Inside—
A scream erupted.
"Ahhh! Brother Arthur! You forgot anesthesia!"
Arthur's calm voice followed.
"Oh. Did I?"
Outside, faces turned pale.
Within seconds, the hallway was empty.
---
The procedure itself was efficient.
Arthur implanted three neural enhancement chips with steady precision. Dorothy had already undergone prior modifications, so her body adapted quickly.
Midway through, Arthur finally injected a mild anesthetic.
Dorothy's breathing stabilized.
She would sleep well tonight.
After cleaning the tools, Arthur glanced at the clock.
He wasn't tired.
Instead, he walked to his terminal.
After a brief pause, he connected a neural interface cable at the base of his neck.
"Buzz—"
The sensation was familiar.
Like stepping out of his body.
His consciousness flowed into the Net.
Virtual space unfolded around him.
Data streams shimmered like neon rivers.
This was one of Arthur's few private hobbies.
To him, cyberspace felt like freedom.
A soul without weight.
He drifted through the network carefully.
He knew better than to attract attention.
NetWatch patrolled aggressively.
Independent netrunners hunted vulnerabilities.
Careless intrusion could mean brain death.
So Arthur stayed low-profile.
No direct attacks on NCPD mainframes.
No corporate system breaches.
Instead—
He listened.
He followed hidden data whispers.
He scanned local gossip clusters.
Within thirty minutes, he gathered more truth than any news broadcast would dare air.
Militech convoy ambushed near the Badlands.
Heavy casualties.
Large-scale firefight suppressed before reaching media feeds.
A cyberpsychosis outbreak in North Watson.
Bloody cleanup by MAX-TAC.
One more recruit added to their ranks.
Official radio channels?
Silent.
Corporate media?
Nothing reported.
Night City always buried its own wounds.
Arthur drifted further.
He planted small trojan programs in unsecured nodes — nothing aggressive. Just silent observers.
Zombie machines.
Distributed processing.
Future leverage.
He avoided Pacifica's deeper networks.
The Voodoo Boys territory was not something to casually poke.
For now.
He exited the Net gently.
The workshop returned around him.
Quiet.
Dim.
Peaceful.
He leaned back in his chair once more.
In one day—
He had secured supply lines.
Launched a new product.
Expanded influence.
Upgraded a loyal follower.
Gathered intelligence.
Step by step.
Not loud.
Not flashy.
Just steady.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly.
Destiny Church wasn't just a gang.
It wasn't just a business.
It was infrastructure.
And infrastructure, once rooted deep enough—
Was hard to remove.
Outside, sirens echoed again in the distance.
Another incident.
Another cleanup.
Another headline that would never be written.
Arthur smiled faintly in the darkness.
Night City thought it was chaotic.
But chaos could be mapped.
And once mapped—
It could be controlled.
_______________________________
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