After Lucy's warning, the line went dead with a sharp click.
Arthur stared blankly at the walkie-talkie in his hand.
"..."
He looked down at the heavy crate again, exhaled, and felt his cigarette droop in his mouth.
That chip inside?
Hotter than a car's exhaust pipe after a full day on the Night City streets.
Goddamn Militech.
They were sneaky bastards, Arthur had to admit.
All this over one little chip — layered in multiple oversized boxes, disguised under loads of useless cargo.
A decoy.
An insurance policy.
A trap.
Problem was, Aldecaldo had been sharp enough — or dumb enough — to grab the wrong prize.
The real prize.
Arthur silently shoved the small box back inside the larger crate, sealed it up, and stepped back.
Maybe if he pretended he never touched it, the universe would be kind.
Turning to Saul, Arthur said as sincerely as he could:
"Hey, Thor, listen... How about we pretend I was never here?"
Thor shrugged helplessly, offering a sheepish grin that only middle-aged men with bad luck and worse friends could pull off.
"Friends gotta protect friends, right?"
Arthur sighed heavily.
"If Panam ever calls you stupid again," he said, "come find me. I'll personally beat some sense into her."
Thor chuckled at that, but the mirth didn't reach his tired eyes.
Arthur leaned against the truck, arms crossed.
"Let me break it down," he said.
"That chip in your hands? It's stolen biotech research. Militech swiped it from Biotechnica.
That data's not just valuable — it's ready to commercialize right now.
Market-ready. Big money."
Arthur took a long drag from his cigarette.
"So now you get why Militech went nuclear over a simple stolen van.
They didn't lose cargo.
They lost a golden goose."
Thor's face darkened until it was practically charcoal.
Arthur was glad Panam wasn't here — she would've caught hell.
"If you give it back," Arthur added carefully, "Militech might — might — lift the fatwa they're about to slam on your heads."
Thor fell silent.
Arthur could see it: the gears grinding away behind the man's weathered face.
His jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists.
Saul was no fool. He knew the risks... but he also smelled the opportunity.
After a long pause, Thor clapped Arthur on the shoulder.
"Thank you for everything you've done for Aldecaldo, Arthur.
But this is our cross to bear."
Arthur nodded.
He wasn't surprised.
There was always someone in Night City who thought they could outrun the reaper if they just tried hard enough.
Maybe they could sell the data.
Maybe they could ransom it back.
Maybe they could barter their way into a better life.
...Or maybe they'd just get crushed.
Either way, it wasn't Arthur's fight anymore.
He flicked his cigarette onto the dusty ground and crushed it out with his boot.
"Fair enough," he said. "If you need a hand, give me a call.
For the sake of the beer — and your good looks."
Thor grinned wearily.
"Appreciate it."
Arthur hopped down from the van and strolled across the rough camp.
As he walked, he spotted Mitch pushing a battered motorcycle toward him.
The man beamed proudly.
"It's not exactly a Sword in the Stone, but I figured you might need wheels," Mitch said, patting the bike.
Arthur ran a hand over the bike's scratched paint and rusty handlebars.
"No kidding," he said.
"If cyberpunks could afford luxury rides like the Sword, we wouldn't be scrounging eddies in this sh*thole."
Arthur swung a leg over the seat and nodded in satisfaction.
It wasn't pretty, but it would get him back to Night City — and it sure beat borrowing from Sixth Street again.
Those guys were this close to sending a death squad after him the next time he asked for a "loan."
From the side, Panam sipped her beer and called out:
"Leaving so soon?
You sure you don't want to stay a few days?"
Despite her usual fire, there was something almost... genuine in her voice.
Arthur smiled wryly.
"If I stick around any longer, you guys are gonna recruit me for your next suicide job," he said.
"I got urgent business back home."
He kicked the bike's stand up and revved the engine.
The noise made a few kids nearby cheer and point.
Arthur grinned wider.
"If you ever make it into Night City," he added, "come find me.
I'll treat you guys to some real chicken — not the radioactive mystery meat you've been eating."
Panam snorted, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.
Arthur took a final look around the camp.
The wanderers were already setting up tents, prepping meals, patching wounds.
The little kids darted around laughing.
Somewhere in the background, an old guitar twanged out a slow, tired song.
Rough.
Dirty.
Chaotic.
But somehow, still alive.
Arthur tucked that image away as he gunned the throttle and sped off toward the distant neon haze of Night City.
He had a company to build.
A city to survive.
And probably about fifteen new bounties on his head by tomorrow.
Just another day in paradise.
(Chapter 37 Complete!)