Arthur concentrated on his work, while Jack snored peacefully nearby, still out cold from the anesthesia.
Time passed. Arthur was still fine-tuning his project when Jack finally woke up and wandered over, standing behind him with a curious gleam in his eye.
"Brother, what new thing are you building?" Jack asked, tilting his head.
Victor, wiping his hands clean after surgery, looked over too and raised an eyebrow.
"Is that a virus chip?" he asked.
In Night City, making a virus chip was about as common as buying a burrito.
Step one: find a hacker.
Step two: grab a chip.
Step three: charm your way into someone's system—or stick a gun in their face if that failed.
Arthur rubbed his bloodshot eyes under the dim workshop light, connected the chip to the ancient computer terminal, and began the final data transfer, watching the loading bar crawl across the screen.
"Honestly, Lao Wei," Arthur muttered without looking up, "it's a miracle you're not blind, working under lighting this bad.
One day your eyes are just gonna pack up and leave."
Victor just grunted.
"I've cooked up some new gadgets," Arthur continued casually. "Planning to open a small factory out in Taipingzhou.
This one's a prototype. I made it for a friend of mine."
Arthur's voice dipped slightly.
"Poor guy's a mess—stacked chrome on top of chrome like he's building a junkyard in his body.
Hands shaking, mind drifting.
The old inhibitors barely keep him together anymore. He's... a familiar face.
Maybe helping him will be doing him—and me—a favor."
Of course, Arthur had other reasons too.
You needed a living billboard in Night City if you wanted to sell a new product.
And Mann, his friend, was still a known name among merc circles. Middlemen recognized him. Fixers respected him.
There was no better walking advertisement.
Victor raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything about the friend's descent into cyberpsychosis.
Instead, his attention stayed on the chip Arthur was building.
"If I remember right," Victor said slowly, "you never even graduated elementary school, did you?"
Arthur smirked.
"Pshh. Self-taught, my friend.
I'm a mechanical genius now. Forget little toys like this—you want a nuclear bomb? I'll cook one up for you.
Maybe bring back the Red Era while I'm at it. What do you think?"
At the mention of the Red Era, Victor immediately waved his hands as if fending off a curse.
"Hell no. Last thing Night City needs is another mushroom cloud."
Arthur chuckled.
The Red Era—the nightmare born when Johnny Silverhand and his gang of rockers nuked Arasaka's tower.
The skies had turned blood red. Radioactive dust had floated down for decades.
Even today, older folks looked at red sunsets with a certain twitch in their eye.
Arthur unplugged the finished chip from the computer, gave it a once-over, and casually tossed it to Jack.
"Want to try it?"
Jack caught it reflexively, looking unsure.
He glanced at Victor for confirmation.
Victor shrugged.
Taking a breath, Jack slotted the chip into his neural interface.
A soft blue glow flickered across his cybernetic optics. Lines of code danced in front of his eyes as the chip's programming synced with his nervous system.
A jolt shot through his spine.
Then—
Silence.
Calm.
As if a heavy weight had been lifted from every part of him.
Jack blinked. His breathing evened out. His limbs felt... lighter.
It was like that strange, fleeting moment people described—the wise man's time—when everything feels at peace, crystal clear.
"Ahhh~" Jack let out a long, satisfied sigh.
"I feel like I just crawled out of my mother's belly. Everything's new."
Arthur watched him with interest.
It was working exactly as intended.
Jack didn't have much chrome yet—but even a few basic implants could weigh down your body's systems over time.
There was no such thing as a "perfect" prosthetic.
Every bolt, every wire, every implant was still an invader in flesh and bone.
Humans were never designed to be machines.
Only a fool—or a corporate suit—would pretend otherwise.
Jack, after a moment of pure bliss, pressed a few buttons on his wrist menu and pulled the chip free, offering it back to Arthur.
He wanted it.
Desperately.
But Arthur had said it was a gift for someone else—someone fighting for their life.
A friend of a friend was still a friend.
Jack wasn't about to step on that.
In Night City, you had to have some kind of bottom line.
If you didn't... you became the monsters you hated.
Arthur accepted the chip back, raising an eyebrow at Jack's restraint.
Good kid.
Some things in Night City changed with the times.
Some things... didn't.
"If you like it that much," Arthur said, grinning, "I'll give you one once my factory's up and running.
You'll have to call me Uncle Arthur though."
Jack laughed, but before he could answer, Victor cut in sharply.
"Don't you dare encourage him!"
Victor pointed at Jack, then back at Arthur.
"If Mrs. Wells knew you were alive, she'd drown you in a septic tank before she let her boy call you 'uncle.'"
Arthur just shrugged, pocketing the chip with a grin.
Victor, however, grew serious.
"You sure you want to put that thing on the streets?" he asked, voice low.
"The corpos'll catch wind sooner or later. You'll have Kang Tao, Arasaka, Militech… sniffing around like dogs that caught the scent of blood."
Arthur frowned slightly, considering.
"I know."
He leaned back against the workbench, staring at the dark ceiling.
"That's why I'll start at the bottom.
Push the suppressor among the poor, the desperate—the ones with no better options.
Make some fast money before the big dogs realize what's going on."
He paused, tapping the side of the workbench lightly.
"And when they do?"
Arthur smirked.
"I'll sell the patent to a corpo.
Maybe Kang Tao. They love this kind of tech."
Victor snorted.
"Selling your soul, huh?"
Arthur smiled lazily.
"Not selling.
Renting.
For a ridiculous pile of eddies."
He tossed the chip in the air, caught it, and grinned.
Night City's rules were simple: Get rich. Die trying.
Arthur planned to do both.
But not before he took a hell of a lot of money from the bastards first.