Jack found himself slipping into Arthur's mother's shoes for a second — and suddenly, his fists itched with the urge to discipline the idiot in front of him.
If he had a son who asked such nonsense, Jack thought grimly, he'd slap him silly on the spot!
But Arthur kept going, looking completely unfazed.
"Later," Arthur said nonchalantly, "my mom got real tired of my questions. So she told me that all the dirty stuff gets washed down into the sewers, then eventually flows into the Pacific Ocean."
Jack blinked.
Where was this going?
"Listen, Jack," Arthur continued, "at that time I started thinking... if my shit could be carried out of this hellhole and into the sea, evaporate into rain, and fall back down somewhere else..."
He trailed off meaningfully.
Jack, however, was already grinding his teeth.
Seriously? He's talking about the circle of life for poop?
"Arthur," Jack growled, "can we stop talking about your crap?"
But Arthur just leaned closer, grinning:
"Oh, Jack, listen to me. I realized back then... If my shit can leave this hell—then I can too!"
There was a heavy silence.
For a long, long moment, the only sound was the roar of the motorcycle's engine.
Jack stared straight ahead, chewing over those words.
Slowly, a wild grin crept across his face.
By the time they pulled up near the towering skeleton of a super-skyscraper in Santo Domingo, Jack finally burst out laughing.
"Yes!" Jack howled. "Exactly! Arthur, you're a damn genius!"
He clapped Arthur hard on the back.
"Your mother should have kissed you for that! You shouldn't be a cyberpunk — you should be a philosopher!"
Arthur shrugged like it was no big deal.
Jack threw his head back and yelled into the wind:
"If my shit can leave this hell, then I can too!!!"
The next morning, Arthur trudged downstairs, still shaking off the last bits of sleep.
There, waiting for him outside, was Jack — bright-eyed, clutching a greasy takeout box.
Without a word, Jack tossed the box to Arthur.
Arthur caught it, opened it, and instantly grimaced.
It was fried noodles. Greasy, cheap, and absolutely depressing.
"You really couldn't find something better?" Arthur groaned.
But he still started eating, shoving forkfuls into his mouth like a man resigned to his fate.
He chewed like he was grinding down nails.
Jack just shrugged innocently.
"I think it's pretty good. Better than the fried noodles my mom used to make."
Arthur rolled his eyes.
"That's a damn tragedy," he muttered around a mouthful of noodles.
After wolfing the food down, he grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from Jack's saddlebag, took a long gulp, and leaned casually against the bike.
"Alright, listen up," Arthur said. "Today's job is basically... doing chivalry."
Jack's face lit up immediately.
"I love being a chivalrous hero!" he said, practically vibrating with excitement.
Arthur looked at him like he was some rare, endangered species.
So pure. So stupid. Definitely not Night City material.
"The job's simple," Arthur explained. "There's a factory owner — Michael — who owes six months' worth of wages to his workers. Now he plans to sell the factory to Militech to wipe the slate clean."
At this, Jack clenched his fists and tossed his empty lunchbox aside with a snarl.
"Arthur! Why are there such evil bastards everywhere in Night City?!"
Arthur just shrugged. "Same reason there's rats in the sewers, Jack. Some things are just built into the city."
He downed another gulp of water before continuing:
"Our job is to find the guy who handles Michael's dirty work, get the payroll info, and shake it out of him."
"The workers are offering 10% of whatever wages we recover. Not a bad payday."
"But," Arthur added seriously, "we gotta move fast. If Militech officially takes over, we're screwed. Just the two of us can't take on a company."
Jack nodded sharply, wiping his mouth.
"I know a girl. She should be able to help us find the guy we're after."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
Since when did Jack have reliable information sources?
"You sure about that?"
Jack thumped his chest proudly.
"Of course! I know people. The girl works for Arasaka's counter-intelligence division. She's sharp — just made a few bad career choices."
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"You're talking about that V girl, aren't you?"
Jack grinned.
"Exactly! She's working for Arasaka now, yeah, but she's still got a heart. She's not sold her soul yet. I believe she'll come around."
Arthur thought about it and finally nodded.
He was planning to introduce Jack to Regina Jones if this lead didn't work, but if Jack had his own contacts, better to use them.
Regina would definitely help—especially with righteous work like this.
Hell, she'd probably even buy them a drink afterward.
Jack drove them toward Watson District, weaving expertly through traffic.
As they rode, Arthur laid out a few more warnings:
"We're dealing with Militech assets, Jack. That means if things go loud, they go really loud. Drones, warbots, armored soldiers."
Jack swallowed hard but nodded.
"I get it, hermano. Fast in, fast out. Grab the cash, save the workers."
Arthur smiled faintly.
"Good.
'Cause if we piss them off too much, the only thing people will see is two big-ass mushrooms blooming over Night City. Again."
Jack laughed nervously.
He had no doubt Arthur could build his own mushroom if pushed far enough.
Arthur leaned back against Jack's bike, watching the city skyline glow under the morning sun.
He exhaled a long breath and muttered:
"Man... if my shit can escape Night City, then I sure as hell can too."
Jack looked at him, grinning.
"And if we get caught?"
Arthur shrugged.
"Then at least we'll go out swinging."
[End of Chapter 50]