To put it nicely, Night City deals are all about mutual "benefit" —
To put it realistically? It's just people using each other.
Arthur understood this perfectly.
He also understood one more thing: getting involved too deep wasn't worth it.
Sure, the Animal Gang boss was offering a chip with some valuable data.
But poking around in Voodoo Boy turf was begging for trouble — and Arthur had no plans to paint a giant target on his back just for a quick payday.
He shook his head lazily.
"Just kidding. Relax." Arthur stretched his arms and grinned. "The NetWatch boys are famous. Just a few voodoo rats messing around. Why don't you just grab your magic wand and cast an Unforgivable Curse? Problem solved, right?"
The Animal Gang boss didn't answer.
Instead, a second man — heavily chromed, muscles like concrete blocks — stepped out from the side room and slumped into a chair.
He stared Arthur down.
"You old fossils know how it is," the chrome man said in a low, buzzing voice. "We don't do precision. We do defense.
Those Voodoo cockroaches? They're not fighting fair. They crawl through every crack and corner.
I need someone to sneak something into their nest. Only then can we smoke 'em out."
Arthur rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.
He knew the game.
If it was a straight fight, even a hundred Voodoo Boys would get steamrolled by NetWatch.
Hell, NetWatch could wipe them off the map in an afternoon.
If they could catch them.
But that was the trick.
Voodoo Boys were street-smart rats — they didn't stand and fight.
They hacked, dodged, slipped through the cracks.
Pop up, sabotage, vanish. Repeat.
Whack-a-mole at a cybernetic level.
It got so bad, NetWatch had to form specialized units just to hunt them.
Even then?
It was like trying to catch ghosts with your bare hands.
Arthur sighed.
Poisoning, huh? Classic.
The idea wasn't new.
In the medieval ages, poison went into your wine.
In Cyberpunk 2077?
The "poison" was a virus — slipped into your cyberware, your implants, your home network.
Once inside, it could:
Paralyze your prosthetics
Cook your brain like an overripe eggplant
Spy on your every thought
Arthur had done similar jobs before.
In fact, he'd once snuck into a certain Corpo exec's condo with a virus chip...
Slipped it into his private computer.
Waited for the guy to plug into it, and boom — brain soup.
Arthur crossed his arms and shrugged.
"This isn't a walk in the park, you know.
The Voodoo Boys don't exactly roll out the red carpet for strangers.
You want me to waltz into their core base, plant a virus, and dance out?"
He shook his head.
"You sure you don't want someone who's suicidal?"
The NetWatch agent smiled thinly — and slid a small encrypted chip across the table toward Arthur.
Arthur didn't touch it.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You think I'm stupid enough to stick a NetWatch chip in my skull without knowing what's on it?"
The NetWatch agent laughed awkwardly and grabbed a piece of scrap paper.
He started sketching a crude map — boxes and circles and some chicken-scratch writing.
"You remember the maglev trains?" he asked.
Arthur blinked.
"Maglev... oh right. The grand Night City Maglev Disaster."
Back before the Fourth Corporate War, Night City had dreams — big ones.
They were gonna build a massive maglev rail system, connecting cities across the continent.
It was the biggest infrastructure project in the Western Hemisphere.
And then?
War.
Riots.
Economic collapse.
The project froze.
The tunnels rotted.
Now? They're rat dens. Gang hideouts. Places you didn't walk without a death wish.
And guess where the Voodoo Boys had set up?
Right inside one of the main abandoned hubs.
The irony was beautiful in a grim way.
"Alright," Arthur muttered, "I get the picture."
The NetWatch agent grinned.
"Exactly. We have access to a few forgotten maintenance shafts and service routes.
You sneak in through the old tunnels, slice through some rusted iron panels, and plant this baby..."
He tapped the chip on the table.
"No alarms. No gunfire. Clean and quiet."
Arthur leaned over the table, studying the rough map.
Looked... doable.
Messy, sure. Dangerous, definitely. But manageable.
Still, Arthur wasn't some rookie looking for street cred.
He leaned back, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against the wood.
"Yeah, see... there's one tiny problem."
He stretched dramatically.
"I've recently made some new friends, a few kilograms worth of chicken, and bonded deeply with them.
We're planning a resistance against the injustices of this world together."
The NetWatch agent stared at him, completely baffled.
Chicken? Resistance?
The boss of the Animals gang sitting nearby had to cough to hide his laughter.
He leaned close to the confused NetWatch agent and whispered:
"…he means you need to pay him more, dumbass."
Arthur grinned like a shark.
"Right.
You want me to tunnel into the hornet's nest, plant your little viral baby, and not end up on a Voodoo totem pole?"
He rapped the table lightly.
"I'll need more eddies."
[End of Chapter 82: More Money Is Needed!]