"My leave's over. Lately... I've been wanting to stretch my legs a bit." Arthur didn't state the target directly—the fewer people who knew, the better. "Oh, and preferably something in Dogtown."
"Dogtown, huh... Mercs don't like that place..." Mr. Hands muttered, giving Arthur a curious look. "Still, there's plenty of work. Perfect, actually. Saves me a lot of trouble.
I'll send you the details in a bit. And... stay safe."
"You say that a lot," Arthur asked, a little curious. For a Fixer, it seemed... unusual.
"Haha... of course. Safety's the most important thing. Anyone who's died once knows just how precious life is..." Mr. Hands replied with a hearty laugh.
"How'd it go?" V leaned in as soon as the call ended.
Arthur shrugged and nodded. "Seems smooth. Mr. Hands will send over the Gig details soon."
V gave a small nod, then added, "This time... I'll have to stay out here. No telling when Yorinobu Arasaka's funding will come through—I need to keep an eye on it.
While you're on the Gig, go find Melanie and those homeless folks. I'm sure they'd like a proper place to settle."
"Alright, that's decided." Arthur concluded. He could check the Gig details first, though he'd probably be running this one solo... Jackie and the others couldn't get into Dogtown yet without passes. He'd have to take care of that problem first.
The email came quickly. A simple job: a shipment diverted from Hansen was set to be delivered to the Scavs in Dogtown. The target was that very cargo.
Half the Gigs in Night City were like this—either delivering to Scavs or taking them out.
The timing worked. Arthur set out right away, riding the same old motorcycle. After getting used to it, he had to admit he loved the thing, especially on days with good weather.
Dogtown checkpoint: a sunken dip in the road. After a thorough security check, he crossed back into that broken-down district.
Night City's wind season had passed, and the endless dust clouds of Dogtown had finally settled to the ground. Abandoned construction materials and ruined buildings were scattered everywhere, the streets cracked and broken.
On his old motorcycle, wrapped in a coarse brown coat, Arthur blended seamlessly into Dogtown's sandy wasteland.
The Gig wasn't urgent. He could wait a few days, strike only after the goods reached the Scavs. Following memories still sharp in his mind, he headed for a gray, half-finished high-rise.
Right... best to make a call first.
...
"Hello, friend..." On the comms, Melanie's glasses caught the light, her expression harmless as ever. "I thought our paths would never cross again."
"Well, I came here, so maybe some poor soul's about to have bad luck. Since there's still time before the plan... I figured I'd stop by for a visit?" Arthur scratched his cheek, feeling oddly awkward.
"We're still at the usual spot... Arthur, just come straight over. Almost everyone here knows you." Melanie nodded, her voice calm as always. Arthur wasn't great at dealing with people like her.
The motorcycle kicked up dust as he rode through. Without the storm winds, Arthur could finally see more of the surroundings.
Dogtown wasn't all ruins—at least not near The Stadium.
Though the streets were still dusty and the weeds between the tiles had withered yellow, the Stadium loomed high like a skyscraper. Nearby, the jet-black Emerald Tower shimmered with extravagant light under the sun.
It was a strange sight—luxurious buildings standing amid ruin. Clearly, Hansen had made a fortune.
Passing through that out-of-place district, Arthur spotted a massive three-meter-tall machine patrolling the roadside.
Planning to hit this area, huh? What, was he supposed to wrestle with those things? He'd just have to take it step by step.
Though not familiar, Arthur eventually found the unfinished high-rise. The external construction elevator was covered in peeling paint and rust. With a long creak, he rode it up.
The place had clearly been modified, at least on this floor... Old canvas had been replaced with crooked wooden planks, no longer letting the wind cut through from every side.
It was lively enough, which meant the group hadn't run into trouble recently. Looked like that former security chief hadn't been falsely accused after all.
Melanie was waiting by the elevator. She looked completely different now—wearing a rough leather jacket, stained work pants, and with her hair cut even shorter. If not for her spotless glasses, she'd be unrecognizable.
"We have to adapt—or more like... we don't have a choice." Melanie glanced at her clothes with a resigned smile. "But... it's not that hard. We grew up roaming the streets. This isn't much different."
"You're a bit different yourself," Arthur said. "You know, I've got plenty of friends from the streets."
As they chatted, they entered the bare room once more. It hadn't changed from last year—the concrete walls still raw and unpainted.
"Let's hear it..." Alone with Arthur now, Melanie sat down casually and went straight to the point.
"Alright... maybe your lives aren't easy right now..." Arthur shook his head, frustrated with his own words. "Damn... I knew I wasn't cut out for this job. Straight to it then—we're planning to hit this place. So I came to ask if you'd want in."
Remembering the half-grown kids outside, Arthur shook his head again. "Forget it. This'll be dangerous, and the local toughs aren't easy to deal with. You should really keep things steady."
Melanie listened in silence, then gave a small nod. She adjusted her glasses, the light sliding across the lenses. "I think... sir... please tell me more. Given our situation, perhaps... we need to seize your offer."