Arthur scratched the back of his head when he heard the Spanish shouting inside. Although he couldn't understand the words directly, it didn't matter.
Thanks to the popularity of brain-computer systems, most people in 2076 didn't need to learn foreign languages at all—their prosthetic eyes automatically translated and displayed subtitles like a movie.
Arthur pushed open the door of the prosthetic clinic and walked in.
The moment he entered, he saw a strong man lying on the operating table, his face twisted in pain as if he had just lost a beloved partner.
Meanwhile, Lao Wei—hammer in one hand and a box of nails in the other—was busily hammering away nearby.
If you didn't know better, you'd think you had walked into a construction site, not a clinic.
Arthur couldn't help but twitch at the scene.
Night City's "doctors" were truly something else.
They looked unprofessional, improvised everything, yet somehow, terrifyingly, got the job done.
Arthur watched Lao Wei drive a nail directly into a bone and winced again as some unpleasant memories surfaced.
"Hey, Lao Wei, are you redecorating?" Arthur quipped from the doorway.
The guy lying on the table spotted Arthur and immediately grinned wide.
"Hermano! You came for surgery too? Look at Lao Wei's arms, strong like bulls! He'll fix you up good as new—factory standard!"
Arthur nearly flinched at the unconvincing sales pitch.
One glance at the hammer, nails, saws, scalpels, and random power tools piled on a mobile trolley was enough to make even a scavenger feel faint.
If he hadn't known Lao Wei personally, Arthur might have bolted right back out the door.
Lao Wei ignored Arthur's sarcasm and glanced at the guy on the table.
"You know what a black hand is?"
The patient, still trying to be cheerful through the pain, joked, "Morgan Blackhand?"
Victor—Lao Wei's nickname in town—didn't miss a beat.
The hammer slipped slightly off the intended nail—and slammed down on the man's hand instead.
"¡AYYYY!"
A wail like a dying pig filled the room.
Arthur instinctively clenched his own hand.
Yeah, note to self: never piss off the ripperdoc holding the hammer.
"That's what you get," Lao Wei muttered with a grin, lifting the hammer for the next swing.
Arthur raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Hey, hey, you keep doing your 'home improvement' project. I'm just here to borrow a little equipment."
Without waiting for permission, Arthur wandered over to Lao Wei's cluttered workbench.
He found a blank standard chip, popped it on the bench, and pulled out a few small tools from the scattered drawers.
Victor didn't object. He was used to Arthur's odd habits.
Over the years, Arthur had a reputation for DIY-ing his own gear when he had a wild new idea.
As Arthur worked, Lao Wei casually introduced the guy on the operating table.
"This here's Jack—new blood. If you've got time, you should bring him along for some jobs."
Arthur glanced up from his tools.
He recognized the big guy immediately but hadn't said anything yet.
In Night City, you learned fast: if you weren't properly introduced, it was better to mind your own business.
Too many people had secrets. Too many fingers on triggers.
Victor continued, "Jack's green, but he's got guts.
And over there is Arthur—an old-school merc. Back in the day, he used to run circles around Night City.
He's a proper cyberpsycho—but don't worry, he's experienced enough not to kill you on accident."
Arthur's mouth twitched.
"My cyberpsychosis has been treated, thank you very much," he grumbled.
"Could you guys please stop slandering me?
Everywhere I go lately, people look at me like I'm about to carve their skull open."
Victor gave him a skeptical look, then chuckled and shook his head.
Jack leaned forward a bit, curious.
"Arthur, huh? You know my mom? Mrs. Wells? She runs the Wolf Bar."
Arthur raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"Mrs. Wells? Of course.
Although, if memory serves, I might still be on the blacklist over there."
Jack's eyes widened.
Victor couldn't resist filling in the juicy part.
"Yeah, back in the day, Arthur decided the best way to deal with a bar fight was to use a grenade launcher.
Almost sent the entire bar—and half the patrons—into orbit."
Arthur shrugged innocently.
"I call it eliminating the threat efficiently.
And besides, I was a regular."
Jack burst out laughing, a booming belly laugh that filled the clinic.
Even through his pain, he found Arthur's casual attitude hilarious.
Still, there was an edge behind Jack's amusement.
He knew—everyone in Night City knew—Mrs. Wells didn't blacklist people lightly.
If Arthur had survived pissing her off, and was still walking around free... then Arthur must be dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Arthur grinned as he soldered a few components onto the blank chip.
Well, that was fine.
He hadn't come here today to make friends—he had come to build something new.
And if fate had decided to throw a guy like Jack into his path...
Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have a big, loud, optimistic rookie around after all.
Night City was a lonely place.
Sometimes it was good to have a little backup.
Even if that backup came with a few missing brain cells.