Several hours later, daylight flooded the River Valley District.
The sun hung high in the sky, harsh and bright, exposing the scars of Night City that neon lights usually hid.
Bain and the others had worked through the entire night. They had stripped the Scavengers' hideout clean—equipment, cyberware tools, refrigeration units, even half-functional furniture.
Yet somehow, none of them looked tired.
Why?
Because when they returned to Puff Bar, they were welcomed by the enthusiastic attention of several custom-built "companions" that Bain had arranged as decorative attractions for the bar.
The young men—once homeless, once desperate—now stood straighter.
Victory was better than sleep.
Arthur Vale, however, stepped out of the machine workshop with a long yawn.
His eyes were slightly red.
But when he looked at the rows of recovered workbenches, surgical tools, diagnostic screens, and refurbished chairs neatly arranged inside the workshop—
He smiled.
"Not bad… not bad at all."
Even the old sofas and metal stools had been carried back.
These boys might lack education.
But they knew how to survive.
Arthur clapped his hands lightly.
"Alright, everyone. You've worked hard. Go sleep. We'll talk business later. Tonight—"
He paused dramatically.
"—we celebrate."
The entire room erupted.
"Brother Arthur is amazing!"
"Long live Arthur!"
"I'll follow you forever!"
Arthur waved them off casually, but inwardly he was satisfied.
Morale was everything.
---
That night, Puff Bar's open yard turned into a bonfire barbecue party.
Music blasted.
Meat sizzled over open flames.
Some sang badly.
Some danced worse.
But for the first time, they felt like they belonged somewhere.
Arthur gestured for Bain to follow him.
They climbed to the rooftop.
River Valley buildings weren't tall. From here, the skyline was visible.
In the distance, Corpo Plaza shimmered like a digital mirage.
Arthur pointed toward it.
"What do you think of that place?"
Bain stared at the neon-lit towers for a long time.
"It's beautiful," he admitted. "But someone like me… a piece of trash from the bottom… doesn't deserve it."
Arthur glanced at him.
"I didn't know you saw yourself that way."
He leaned against the edge.
"So tell me, Bain. In Night City, what role do you think you play?"
Bain hesitated.
"…Ants," he finally said. "We're ants. It's impossible to stand out here."
Arthur nodded slowly.
Then he pointed at the dark alleys below them.
"What about those shadows?"
Bain frowned.
"Scavengers. Gangs. Merc hyenas."
Arthur smiled.
"See? You instinctively separated the greedy senators, corporate executives, and warlords from those shadows."
Bain froze.
"If darkness is those tyrants… then what are those neon lights?" he whispered.
Arthur looked at Corpo Plaza again.
"They are the system. The structure. The cage that keeps ants from climbing."
The wind blew across the rooftop.
"One person can't fix Night City. Fame means nothing. Recognition means nothing."
He looked at Bain seriously.
"So what matters?"
Something ignited in Bain's eyes.
He felt it.
A dangerous idea.
"So that's why you don't care about being known…" Bain muttered.
Arthur gave a faint smile.
Bain lowered his head.
He realized something terrifying—
Arthur's ambitions were far larger than money or territory.
They were about structure.
About the foundation.
Fear and excitement mixed in Bain's chest.
"Arthur… I want to follow you. For the rest of my life."
Arthur said nothing.
He simply looked at the skyline.
---
After a moment, he spoke casually.
"We've settled in River Valley. That means we'll deal with 6th Street sooner or later. And we should contact the fixer Muammar Reyes."
Bain nodded.
Arthur changed the subject.
"Guess how much last night's haul is worth?"
Bain blinked.
"Oh—Father transferred 2,000 eurodollars after I delivered the bodies."
Arthur shook his head.
"That's yours. You're the leader. A leader without pocket money looks pathetic."
Bain looked embarrassed.
Arthur continued calmly.
"Cash seized: 7,000. Twenty neural interfaces—we'll need a hacker to crack them. Cyberware salvage: roughly 40,000 if sold carefully."
Bain's eyes widened.
"For now, we're fine financially. But that's temporary. You'll still need to take mercenary contracts. I'll start producing small pharmaceutical mods. That'll bring steady profit."
He paused deliberately.
"And remember—"
"You are the Leader of Destiny Church."
"I'm just your treasurer and personal ripperdoc. Combat isn't my specialty. You, Bain—you're the visible force."
Bain nodded, dazed.
"Whatever you say. You choose the targets. I'll handle them."
Arthur patted his shoulder.
Internally, he was amused.
Why stand in front?
Let Bain be the spear.
If one day they crossed someone like Adam Smasher, Morgan Blackhand, or even the mysterious blue-eyed corporate elites—
The blame would fall on the leader.
Arthur could sit behind, cracking sunflower seeds, drinking sugary soda, and watching chaos unfold.
Perfect positioning.
---
After ensuring Bain rejoined the party downstairs, Arthur sent a message.
[Arthur: Hey, Sasha. Got work. Come to Puff Bar. First drink's on me.]
Reply came instantly.
[Sasha: (●'◡'●) Twenty minutes.]
---
Arthur sat at the bar counter.
Bartender Loki slid him a drink.
"Explosive Flame."
Brandy.
Chili powder.
Sparkling water.
Iced black tea.
It burned going down.
Loki was a thick-bearded man typical of River Valley. Occasionally his daughter helped at the bar—bright red mohawk, rebellious energy.
Arthur pretended not to notice.
He activated his neural interface and browsed Night Corp's renovation division.
If he wanted Destiny Church to grow, the workshop needed upgrading.
Night Corp's AI construction team had the highest efficiency rating in the city.
Two minutes later—
Arthur nearly spat out his drink.
"150,000 eurodollars to renovate a 120-square-meter workshop? That's robbery!"
Before he could complain further—
A voice sounded beside him.
"Vodka on the rocks. Half spoon of celery salt. Thirty milliliters of tomato juice. No chili water."
Arthur turned his head slowly.
"Put it on his tab," the girl added casually.
Sasha Yakovlevova slid onto the stool next to him.
Black bob haircut.
Cybernetic eye gleaming.
Cheek tattoos like cat whiskers.
She smiled.
"So, Doctor. Buying me that drink?"
Arthur sighed.
"You're expensive."
Sasha tilted her head playfully.
"You hired a professional."
Arthur signaled Loki.
"Add it to my bill."
Sasha rested her chin on her hand.
"So. What's the job?"
Arthur leaned slightly closer.
"We recovered twenty neural interfaces from Scavengers. I want the wallets cracked. Quietly."
Sasha's cybernetic eye flickered.
"That's illegal."
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
"You hacked a gang's network yesterday."
She grinned.
"Fair point."
Her fingers pressed lightly to her temple.
Green data streams flickered briefly in her artificial eye.
"You're growing fast, Arthur."
He remained calm.
"We're growing."
Sasha studied him carefully.
"You don't talk like most gang leaders."
"I'm not a gang leader."
She smiled knowingly.
"Sure you're not."
Music and laughter filled Puff Bar behind them.
Neon lights reflected off glasses.
Outside, Night City continued its endless cycle of violence and ambition.
Arthur raised his glass.
"To new partnerships."
Sasha clinked hers against his.
"To profitable chaos."