Time seemed to freeze.
Arthur quickly circled to the passenger side, glancing inside the car.
There was Jack, squeezed into the tiny seat, looking completely aggrieved in his tight pink dress.
Arthur then glanced at the security guard, who stood there petrified, mouth slightly open as if trying—and failing—to process what he was seeing.
Arthur couldn't help himself. He patted the stunned guard on the shoulder, grinning.
"This is... Tequila Girl!" Arthur said cheerfully.
The phrase echoed inside the security guard's mind like a bad acid trip: Tequila Girl... Tequila Girl...
It was absurd.
It was wrong.
It was so wrong that the next moment, the security guard snapped out of his daze, pushed Arthur aside, and whipped out his pistol.
"Hands where I can see them, a**holes! Move and I'll shoot!!"
The other guards instantly snapped to attention, weapons raised, aiming not only at Jack, but at Arthur too.
Jack instinctively raised his hands high.
Even if he wanted to resist, wearing that stupid dress, he couldn't even run without flashing half the district.
He knew—one wrong move and he'd be ventilated on the spot.
Seeing the sudden tense standoff, Arthur quickly raised his hands too and shouted:
"Whoa whoa whoa! It's a misunderstanding! Misunderstanding! Calm down!"
The security guards kept their fingers hovering over the triggers, clearly not convinced.
"You're acting real suspicious, scumbag!" barked the lead guard.
"One wrong move and you're both dead!"
Arthur kept his hands high and looked sincerely aggrieved.
"Don't shoot! Damn... Can't believe you guys saw through such a good disguise!"
The checkpoint fell into an awkward silence.
Even the crows flying overhead seemed confused.
The security guard jabbed a finger toward Jack, his voice trembling with outrage:
"That—THAT! You call that a woman?! Look at those muscles! Look at that Adam's apple!!"
Arthur smiled sheepishly.
"Come on, man. Plastic surgery's amazing these days. Maybe she's from the Animals gang. Ever think of that?"
The guard's forehead vein bulged dangerously.
"Stop screwing around!" he snapped. "Start explaining, or I'm hauling your a** to the NCPD for endangering public safety!"
Arthur, still holding his hands up, slowly turned in place.
"Easy, easy! Listen. There are things... I can't say out loud. Sensitive stuff.
But if I tell you quietly, bit by bit, maybe we can reach an understanding?"
The security guard hesitated.
He didn't like the look of this one bit, but curiosity—and survival instincts—kicked in.
He gestured Arthur closer with his pistol.
Arthur leaned in and whispered:
"Alright... I'll tell you.
Yeah. That's a man in a dress."
The security guard rolled his eyes so hard it almost looked painful.
No st, Sherlock.**
The tension in the checkpoint eased slightly.
The surrounding guards lowered their weapons, although most of them still looked ready to shoot if Arthur so much as sneezed.
Arthur took a slow breath.
"Here's the real deal," he said in a low voice. "But only if you really want to know."
The security guard frowned, but nodded.
Arthur leaned in even closer.
"You know Kerry Eurodyne? Big rockstar. Media darling. Used to be in Samurai?"
The guard's expression flickered.
Yeah, he'd heard of Kerry.
The whole city had.
Recently, there'd been rumors too... divorce, scandals, strange sightings.
Arthur continued, voice barely above a whisper:
"Let's just say... Mr. Kerry has some personal preferences that aren't exactly mainstream."
The security guard stiffened.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
It all clicked into place in his mind.
The rumors.
The company clarifications.
The sudden divorce.
The security guard wiped sweat from his forehead.
Kerry was bent?!
And not just bent — but... this taste?!
Arthur clapped him lightly on the shoulder, giving him a solemn look.
"And you know how these corporations are. Image is everything.
One leak about Kerry's special friends?
Album sales plummet.
Brand deals vanish.
It's bad for business."
The security guard nodded vigorously, his imagination running wild.
Arthur threw in a little extra, twisting the knife:
"Imagine the headlines: 'Rockstar's Aggressive New Look Explained!'
No one wants their idols to look too... dominant, you know?"
The security guard's face turned green.
He swallowed, hard, then quickly holstered his pistol and waved toward his colleagues.
"Inspection complete!" he barked, forcing a stiff smile.
"Just a lady... and her escort! No contraband!"
The other security guards exchanged glances, shrugged, and lowered their weapons.
Arthur smirked and began walking back toward the car.
The security guard hesitated, then leaned in and whispered:
"Uh... should I notify Mr. Kerry?"
Arthur stopped dead, turned, and gave him a deadly serious look.
"You do that, and tomorrow morning you'll be floating face-down in the Night City River with your shoes filled with concrete."
The security guard blanched.
Arthur added smoothly:
"Best thing you can do? Forget you saw anything.
No reports. No calls.
You don't know anything.
And you get to keep your job. Sound good?"
The guard nodded frantically, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
Arthur clapped him on the back one last time.
"Good man."
He got back in the car.
Jack — still a tragic figure stuffed into the pink dress — groaned and covered his face.
"Arthur," he muttered, "next time...
...just shoot me."
Arthur grinned.
"Nah, Tequila Jack. You're a star already."
He hit the gas, driving the ridiculous trio deeper into Westbrook's exclusive North Oak District.
Their target — Michael's luxury villa — was finally within reach.
[End of Chapter 56: Tequila Jack!]