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As a native of Night City, David was no stranger to violence.
The city raised its children fast. Too fast.
Still, even someone like David Martinezâwho had grown up watching gunfights unfold outside apartment windowsâwas not prepared for the scene in front of him.
The tattooed woman standing before him didn't look like an ordinary street punk.
She looked like a walking weapon.
Her chrome glinted under the afternoon sun. Her eyes were cold. Calculating.
David's instincts kicked in.
Run.
If he couldn't win, he could at least avoid trouble.
He had barely taken two steps when a fist exploded into his face.
Dorothy's punch landed clean.
"Damn itâ"
Saliva and blood sprayed into the air, sparkling in the sunlight like something almost beautifulâif it hadn't been so humiliating.
With a single punch, Dorothy knocked down the future legend of Night CityâDavid Martinez.
He hit the ground hard.
Before he could recover, a brutal kick smashed into his stomach.
Air left his lungs in a violent wheeze.
Why such a beating?
Because Arthur Vale had been clear.
Not "knock him down."
Not "teach him a lesson."
Beat him up.
Dorothy took orders seriously.
Very seriously.
Within moments, David's face was swollen, lips split, one eye nearly closed. He lay on the pavement staring at the unfamiliar woman as if life itself had betrayed him.
Through bloodied teeth, he muttered, "That bastard Tanaka⊠wants to torture me before killing me? If you're going to kill me, stupid woman⊠just do it faster."
Dorothy had no idea who Tanaka was.
Didn't care.
She judged the damage sufficient.
Without hesitation, she hoisted the half-conscious David over her shoulder like discarded cargo. The patrons outside the Puff Bar had stopped pretending not to watch.
She shot them a glare.
"What are you staring at? Get lost!"
The crowd scattered.
Night City loved a show.
But it loved staying alive more.
---
David felt weak.
Powerless.
His body bounced on Dorothy's shoulder as she walked. He couldn't even struggle. Couldn't scream.
His mind began playing tricks on him.
Hallucinations.
His mother's face.
Gloria Martinez.
She had worked herself to exhaustion for him. Double shifts at the medical center. Debt piling up. Dreams pinned on Arasaka Academy.
And nowâ
He couldn't escape.
He was going to die.
Probably get chopped up by Scavengers.
Sold for parts.
This was how it ended.
"Bang."
He was thrown into an operating chair inside a dark cybernetics clinic.
Fluorescent lights flickered above him.
Dorothy stood nearby.
And beside herâ
A young man.
Black hair.
Sharp features.
Calm eyes.
Too calm.
David's heart sank.
Great. A good-looking Scavenger. That's new.
Eight lifetimes of bad luck, he thought bitterly.
Arthur Vale studied him quietly.
Originally, Arthur had only meant for Dorothy to knock him out and bring him in for a conversation.
But when he had said, "beat him up," she had⊠executed it literally.
Arthur decided not to admit that was his mistake.
He gestured for Dorothy to leave.
The room quieted.
David's breathing steadied slightly.
Arthur stepped forward and spoke gently.
"First time meeting you, David Martinez. My name is Arthur Vale. You can call me Arthur."
David glared.
"So what? Aren't you just a Scavenger? Planning to sell me?"
Arthur sighed inwardly.
Misunderstanding.
He leaned casually against a table.
"No. I'm not a Scavenger. To be precise, we belong to an organization called the Destiny Church."
David blinked.
Arthur continued smoothly, almost conversationally.
"An evil organization. We lure young people in, brainwash them, encourage them to commit terrible crimes. Very dramatic."
David stared.
"âŠWhat?"
"So yes. This is our recruitment method."
"âŠThis is recruitment?"
"Yes. Is there a problem?"
David's brain stalled.
"I⊠I want to kill myself."
Arthur almost smiled.
He placed a black metal box beside the chair.
"Actually," Arthur continued, "I saw your Arasaka Academy uniform. I want to commission you for something. If you succeed, I'll transfer 100,000 eurodollars to you."
David's expression didn't change.
"Not interested. Don't believe you. No."
Arthur nodded calmly.
He opened the box.
Insideârows of compact high-explosive charges.
Neatly arranged.
David froze.
"I want you to bring this into Arasaka Academy and detonate it," Arthur said mildly. "Publicity matters."
"Our doctrine states: All defilement shall be reborn in destruction."
He leaned closer.
"I also know you don't have a father. Only your motherâGloria Martinez. Works at the Municipal Medical Center."
David's eyes went red.
Rage overtook fear.
He lunged forward, grabbing for the detonator pin.
If he was going to die, he'd take them with him.
Arthur's hand moved faster.
He caught David's wrist mid-motion.
Effortless.
"Bastards!" David screamed. "Threaten my mom? Come at me instead! Come on!"
Arthur watched him carefully.
And smiled.
This was what he wanted to see.
Spirit.
Defiance.
Not cowardice.
Silently, Arthur closed the box and set it aside.
"What? Unwilling?"
He shrugged.
"We don't force people. We don't coerce recruitment."
David blinked.
"If you don't want to join, you can leave."
Arthur tossed an envelope onto his lap.
"Five thousand eurodollars. For medical expenses."
"Goodbye."
Silence.
David stared.
Completely confused.
Moments later, he found himself outside the Puff Bar again.
Bruised.
Swollen.
Holding five thousand eurodollars.
Alive.
He stood there like a glitch in the system.
What just happened?
---
A black luxury vehicle pulled up nearby.
Dexter DeShawn stepped out.
He noticed David briefly.
Then dismissed him.
Not important.
He entered the clinic.
Inside, Arthur handed over a cooler containing one hundred doses of Destiny Potion.
Dex examined it carefully.
Satisfied.
Plans were already forming in his mind.
Distribution routes.
Test clients.
Market positioning.
Arthur, meanwhile, returned to his workstation.
Cybernetics schematics glowed across holographic screens.
He had no time to waste.
New implants required testing.
Neural chip prototypes for the Thought Control Accelerator still needed calibration.
And there were Church members waiting for chip installations.
Night City didn't sleep.
Neither could he.
---
Elsewhere.
The 6th Street Gang's stronghold.
Once formed by veterans of the Corporate Wars and the Unification War, 6th Street had begun as self-proclaimed protectors of civilians.
But power corrupts.
And protection quickly turned into control.
Inside the dim-lit base, Will Hanson listened to a report from one of his men.
"That dog Will Cannon's acting up again," the subordinate growled. "Bossing everyone around. What's 6th Street become? Anyone thinks they can step on us."
Hanson's jaw tightened.
"And that woman we grabbed yesterday?" he asked coldly.
"She still won't call her husband. Won't cooperate."
Hanson's temper flared.
"Useless idiots!" he snapped. "What are those chrome implants for if you can't make someone talk?"
He kicked the subordinate to the floor.
Rage simmered beneath his skin.
He was about to personally handle the situationâ
When the doors burst open.
Several men stumbled inside.
Faces bruised.
Noses bleeding.
One was clutching his jaw.
Satoni.
The scout team he had sent to gather intel at the Puff Bar.
They looked destroyed.
Hanson's eyes narrowed.
Dangerous.
Cold.
"What happened?"
Satoni swallowed hard.
"There's⊠something new there."
"Not Scavs. Not Mox. Not NCPD."
He hesitated.
"They call themselves⊠the Destiny Church."
Silence fell over the room.
Will Hanson's expression darkened.
In Night City, new players meant one thing.
Territory disputes.
And blood.
A storm was coming.
And Arthur Vale had just made his first move.