Japantown was controlled entirely by the Tyger Claws.
They acted as local security, maintaining order in their own way. In this district, calling NCPD might get you ignored—but going to the Tyger Claws would definitely get a response.
Whether that response was good or bad depended on your luck.
Their relationship with Arasaka Corporation was complicated. Some said unofficial. Others said obvious.
Many people in Night City believed one simple thing:
NCPD belonged to Night City.
The Tyger Claws belonged to Arasaka.
If Japantown was the most polished, dazzling paradise of Night City—
Then Twisty Street was its raw, indulgent underbelly.
There was a saying here:
The rich and powerful go to Clouds for premium braindances and curated pleasure.
The broke and desperate go to Twisty Street.
Cheap.
Fast.
No questions asked.
Twisty Street offered everything—so long as you paid.
---
Night fell quickly.
Arthur Vale had wasted another full day.
He didn't mind.
Sometimes walking through the chaos helped him think.
Twisty Street was entering its busiest hour. Neon lights flickered. Music blasted from every direction. The narrow streets were packed with bodies brushing against one another.
Outside an adult shop, several service workers stood chatting casually, smoking and laughing. They wore synthetic skin implants and cosmetic cyberware that made them look almost unreal under the neon glow.
It was an unspoken partnership.
They bought equipment and props from the store.
The store thrived because of them.
Simple business.
Arthur's presence drew attention immediately.
One of them leaned slightly forward.
"Sir, interested in our 'Demons Dancing' package?"
Arthur didn't even slow down.
"Not tonight."
He walked past without interest.
Behind him, their voices drifted lightly.
"Such a handsome guy…"
"Look at his chrome—definitely high-end."
"Bet he's packing heavy cyberware too…"
They laughed loudly.
Arthur ignored it.
Twisty Street was noisy, chaotic, and unapologetically honest.
---
He walked deeper into the district.
Compared to the 2077 era he remembered, this Twisty Street felt bigger.
Messier.
More desperate.
At the center of it stood a Pachinko parlor owned by Wakako Okada, one of Westbrook's most influential fixers.
If you were a merc in this district, you eventually dealt with her.
She had deep ties to the Tyger Claws.
Five husbands—all former Tyger Claws bosses.
Nine sons—all affiliated.
Within the gang, her influence ran deep. Some even said her word carried more weight than the current leadership.
Arthur knew something simple:
In Night City, money overrode loyalty.
And Wakako understood money better than anyone.
---
Arthur stepped inside the Pachinko parlor.
The sound hit immediately.
Metallic clinks.
Electronic jingles.
Shouts of victory.
Curses of defeat.
The air smelled of sweat and cheap perfume.
Every machine was occupied.
Customers stared at spinning displays like worshippers at an altar.
Here, every second someone screamed in triumph.
Every second someone sank into despair.
Arthur exchanged 1,000 eurodollars for Pachinko balls.
He wasn't here to gamble seriously.
He was observing.
Watching.
Studying patterns.
As he moved to a quiet corner, a faint blue glow flickered in his eyes.
He quietly breached the internal system.
Not to sabotage.
Not to cheat.
Just to understand the algorithms.
As the saying went—ten gambles, ten scams.
Arthur simply preferred not to be the fool.
---
Nearby, a young Tyger Claws member with dyed blue-green hair slammed his machine angrily.
"Damn it! Lost again!"
Next to him sat a sharply dressed corporate woman.
Black blazer.
White shirt.
Black stockings.
Calm smile.
Her machine emitted cheerful winning tones repeatedly.
Pachinko balls poured down her tray.
The Tyger Claws member's screen flashed GAME OVER again.
His jaw tightened.
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"Bad luck today, handsome."
Her tone was playful.
But condescending.
He muttered under his breath, glaring at her.
If this wasn't Wakako's establishment, things might have gone differently.
She leaned back confidently.
"This is Wakako's parlor. As a grunt, know your place."
Her voice was smooth.
Sharp.
The Tyger Claws member's eyes darkened.
He stood abruptly and walked toward the back office area.
Arthur noticed immediately.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
That corporate woman just made a mistake.
---
The music kept playing.
The lights kept flashing.
But Arthur's focus sharpened.
The Tyger Claws man wasn't just angry.
He was humiliated.
And humiliation inside gang territory rarely ended quietly.
Arthur finished mapping the payout logic of the machines.
Interesting.
The algorithm favored short-term winners.
Hook them early.
Drain them slowly.
Classic psychological manipulation.
He closed the hack cleanly.
No trace left behind.
Just as he stepped toward an empty machine—
He saw the Tyger Claws member disappear behind a restricted door.
Arthur paused.
Then he chuckled softly.
"Tsk."
She's in trouble.
But then—
Arthur's eyes sharpened.
Wait.
The back hallway wasn't just for staff.
It led toward Wakako's private negotiation rooms.
If the grunt was heading there, he wasn't acting alone.
He was reporting something.
Or asking for permission.
Arthur leaned casually against a machine, pretending to inspect his Pachinko balls.
His neural sensors extended slightly.
Audio pickup range increased.
Fragments of conversation drifted faintly through the network.
"Corporate employee…"
"…insulted…"
"…bad example…"
"…teach lesson…"
Arthur sighed.
Bad luck.
That corporate woman had miscalculated.
In Night City, arrogance without backup was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
---
Across the room, the woman continued playing, unaware.
She stacked more balls confidently.
Her face radiated superiority.
Perhaps she believed corporate status protected her everywhere.
Perhaps she didn't understand district politics.
Or perhaps—
She did understand.
And simply didn't care.
Arthur weighed his options.
He wasn't here to interfere.
He wasn't here to make enemies.
He was here to relax.
But sometimes—
Trouble followed him anyway.
He exhaled slowly.
Night City was like that.
You could mind your own business.
And still end up involved.
---
The music swelled.
The neon lights flickered violently.
The restricted door at the back creaked open again.
Three Tyger Claws members stepped out.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Their eyes locked onto the corporate woman.
Arthur clicked his tongue softly.
"Bad luck."
He slid one Pachinko ball between his fingers thoughtfully.
Whether he intervened or not—
The night had just become interesting.
And in Night City—
Interesting usually meant dangerous.
-
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