"arthur, why don't you solve the problem yourself next time! I'll solve it for you first, how about that?"
Arthur grumbled into his comms as he stepped into the dark tunnel without hesitation. His boots crushed small bits of broken glass and trash underfoot as he advanced, the entire place reeking of rust, mildew, and the faint trace of blood.
It was the typical Night City flavor: decay, despair, and danger all rolled into one convenient underground labyrinth.
Not that Arthur cared much. He didn't even bother turning on a flashlight — the low-light optics installed in his prosthetic eyes were more than enough to make out the grimy walls and occasional homeless huddled in sleeping bags.
"That's just how you corporate dogs are. Always hiding important details until it's too late. If you were a little more honest, maybe more cyberpunks would be willing to take your jobs," Arthur said casually as he sidestepped a particularly foul puddle.
The Network Monitor on the other end immediately defended himself:
"That's not fair! We only hide a little information because if we gave the whole picture, no one would take the work at all!"
Arthur nearly laughed out loud. "You want to send cyberpunks to steal from Arasaka, bomb Militech buildings, or jack data straight from Kang Tao's labs… and you think people will volunteer for that? Are you stupid or just desperate?"
His voice echoed off the concrete, but Arthur wasn't worried. The repairmen he spotted earlier were far behind now, too busy pretending the dying city wasn't falling apart.
The Network Monitor chuckled awkwardly. "For simple jobs, we do them in-house! Only the high-risk stuff gets outsourced. You cyberpunks are too expensive, too arrogant, and too volatile!"
Arthur rolled his eyes, stepping carefully around a collapsed section of the tunnel where twisted rebar jutted out like metal thorns.
"You're blaming us? Listen, buddy — if you corporate types built real trust first, you'd have a whole army of cyberpunks ready to work for peanuts. It's your own fault," Arthur said, flicking his cigarette butt aside.
"You guys should've offered small, safe jobs at fair pay — monthly contracts, reliable payments. Treat us like partners instead of disposable tools."
Arthur smiled as he imagined it: a horde of loyal, well-trained cyberpunks just waiting for a call — all because the corps were a little less greedy and a little more patient.
"Once you hook them with small favors, you can screw them over big time later. That's just basic conman logic!"
The Network Monitor was silent for a long moment. Then, hesitantly:
"...Are you sure you're not a corporate recruiter?"
Arthur snorted. "Please. I had a friend who got conned like that. Poor bastard was loyal as hell — and then Military Tech gutted him like a fish when he got too useful."
"...Could you introduce me to your friend?" the Monitor asked shamelessly.
"I mean, it's good to have a network! For friendship!"
Arthur's grin grew even wider. "Oh, absolutely. Just be ready to bring a body bag — he's six feet under."
The conversation ended as Arthur finally arrived at a wall of thick concrete, supposedly blocking off the old maglev tunnel entrance.
He tested it with a knock of his knuckles. Solid. Reinforced. Not the kind of thing you break through without attracting every scavenger and ganger in a 10-mile radius.
"This thing's thicker than your company's employee manual," Arthur muttered.
The Monitor quickly chirped up:
"No, no, not there! Try the lower left corner — there should be a maintenance hatch left by Knight International!"
Arthur rolled his eyes and stooped down, stabbing his Mantis Blades into the indicated spot.
Sure enough, after a bit of digging, a slab of thinner concrete cracked and fell inward, revealing a narrow, pitch-black passage.
Arthur squeezed through, activating the muscle dampeners in his prosthetic arms to make his movements silent.
"Why would Knight International leave a back door?" Arthur asked while climbing through.
"After the Silverhand Incident, every major infrastructure project was required to have emergency access points — just in case another 'freedom fighter' decided to nuke the city again."
Arthur smirked. "Ah. Gotta love government regulation — enforced only after the mushroom cloud."
He moved deeper, cutting through another panel easily. The air was colder here, heavier. Dust and chemical residue clung to every surface.
According to the plan, this path would eventually lead him right to the underground perimeter controlled by the Voodoo Boys.
Of course, getting close was just half the problem. Infiltrating without getting turned into a vegetable by their netrunners?
That was the real challenge.
The Network Monitor's voice returned, slightly more serious now:
"Remember, Arthur: once you breach their internal systems, we'll assist remotely. But if you get spotted..."
Arthur finished for him: "My brain gets fried like synth-meat on a Night City grill."
"Exactly."
Arthur took a long drag from another cigarette and blew a lazy smoke ring into the darkness.
"Don't worry," he said calmly, eyes gleaming in the blackness, "I'm good at dealing with crazy netrunners. I used to date one."
A short pause.
"You're joking, right?" the Monitor asked nervously.
Arthur just laughed and slid deeper into the tunnel, his silhouette quickly swallowed by the darkness ahead.