Arthur left the Animal Gang's territory without looking back, cigarette dangling from his lips, one hand lazily on the steering wheel while the other propped up his head. The city's distorted skyline stretched out before him, a jagged silhouette of greed and decay.
The maglev network he was heading toward sounded fancy on paper. In reality, it was just another piece of Night City's broken dreams—a once-glorious public transport system now decaying like the rest of the city. Only the lines leading outward had been abandoned after the economic collapse; those snaking within the city still operated. To keep the local rats from stealing, vandalizing, or simply squatting on the tracks, the authorities had isolated the dead sections with thick slabs of reinforced concrete.
Of course, the real reason wasn't public safety. It was the trains themselves. Those sleek, customized maglev cars cost more than most Night City residents would earn in a dozen lifetimes. Protecting them was simply a matter of protecting corporate investments—people were an afterthought.
As Arthur drove deeper into Santo Domingo, the gunshots and sirens decorating the streets faded into a dull background hum. He turned off the main road and followed a desolate side street, the cracked asphalt splitting into dusty veins. Few buildings stood here now, just skeletal frames and empty lots.
He checked the note in his hand, glanced around. This had to be the place.
Yet it didn't look like much. Just barren land stretching toward the horizon, closer to Coronado Ranch, brushing the edge of the Badlands. If Arthur had a Geiger counter on him, it would've started singing a death song by now.
Despite the name, Coronado Ranch didn't host any livestock. Animals had long been banned inside Night City limits. Officials claimed livestock posed a health risk—possible plagues, infectious diseases—but Arthur knew the real reason. Animals were expensive to manage, and the city's officials would rather pocket tax money than invest in something so... messy.
This whole district was supposed to be the dream of the middle class. White-picket fences, green lawns, swing sets for the kids. Now? Desertification gnawed at the soil. Crumbling houses stood like tombstones for a generation's lost dreams.
Arthur lit another cigarette, dragging deeply as he scanned the horizon—and caught movement. Two guys on a motorcycle, blasting across the dirt, engines roaring like angry bees. One of them, the skinnier rider, held a submachine gun, waving it wildly as they tore after a distant maglev train.
Arthur scratched the back of his head. Was this really happening?
Sure enough, the skinnier one raised his gun and fired a few wild shots at the maglev train streaking by.
Arthur watched this absurd little scene unfold with the weariness of a man who'd already seen too much stupidity for one lifetime. Folk customs are getting fiercer these days, he thought. Feels like I've traveled back two hundred years to the old Wild West.
Shaking his head, Arthur flicked his cigarette aside, climbed back into his borrowed car, and stepped on the gas. The engine growled, chasing after the two idiots now playing cowboy and robber with the maglev.
Being so close, Arthur could clearly hear their shouting over the roar of the engines.
"Just keep up with the train, man!"
"I am keeping up! What do you want me to do, hack it?"
"You're not a hacker?"
"Bro, I barely finished school! I can barely drive this thing!"
Their bickering was cut short when another maglev train rocketed out of the opposite tunnel.
Arthur, experienced enough to react instantly, twisted the steering wheel hard, narrowly missing the oncoming train by inches.
The two on the motorcycle weren't so lucky.
The maglev struck them like a fist from God. The bike crumpled, spinning through the air before slamming into the concrete barrier. The two riders ragdolled through the air, spraying blood across the sunbaked asphalt.
Arthur pulled the car over casually, stepping out to survey the carnage. He lit a new cigarette, smoke curling lazily from his lips.
What kind of brain-dead moron thinks robbing a maglev is a good idea? he mused. The trains were armored, built by Militech for high-speed resilience. They could crash through gang barricades without even scratching the paint.
Night City's finest, Arthur thought bitterly, kicking a piece of twisted metal away from his feet.
He squinted down the nearby tunnel entrance. It yawned open like a black mouth, deep and hungry.
Arthur really didn't want to crawl into another underground deathtrap today. But he didn't have much choice. He sighed, flicked away his cigarette, and pulled out his phone.
"Yo, I'm at the entrance," he said, connecting with the Network Surveillance Company's operator. "Tell me again... this place is safe, right?"
The operator's cheerful voice buzzed through the speaker. "Of course it's safe!"
Arthur snorted. "You mean Night City safe, right? 'Cause two minutes ago I watched a maglev train turn two amateurs into street pizza."
"Well," the operator hedged, "safety is... relative."
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "You corporate types and your definitions. You should've just said it's about as safe as having lunch with a tiger."
The operator laughed nervously. "Don't worry. That track is only used two or three times a day. As long as you stick close to the walls, you'll be fine! You're cybernetically enhanced anyway—you can climb if you need to."
Arthur muttered curses under his breath but didn't argue. In Night City, sometimes you had to treat basic survival like another side quest.
With one last deep drag, he tossed the cigarette, adjusted his jacket, and headed down the tunnel toward the abyss.
Safe, he thought grimly. Yeah. Safe... just like Night City.