Chapter 43: Jack!

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Arthur scratched the back of his head as he heard Spanish. Although he didn't understand it, it didn't matter. Thanks to the widespread use of brain-computer interfaces, most people no longer had to worry about learning foreign languages. The system would translate spoken words and display subtitles directly onto your prosthetic eyes—just like watching a movie.

Arthur pushed open the door of the prosthetic clinic and stepped inside.

As soon as he entered, he saw a muscular man lying on the operating table. The man's face was contorted in pain, his expression reminiscent of someone who had just lost a partner. Lao was standing nearby, holding a hand in his grip. He was hammering away with a few nails.

Arthur blinked. It seemed like he had walked into some kind of construction site rather than a clinic.

To be honest, doctors in Night City were something else. They may look unprofessional and use what seemed like questionable methods, but they could still work wonders. The fact that this kind of operation was being carried out with nails and a hammer was impressive, in a terrifying sort of way.

Arthur couldn't help but twitch at the sight, as it reminded him of some unpleasant memories.

"Hey, Lao, are you doing some renovations here?" Arthur called out sarcastically, unable to resist making a comment. The guy on the operating table noticed Arthur and cracked a grin.

"Hermanos (brother), I told you, you came here for treatment. Just look at Lao's strong arms. He can fix you up like you're brand new, straight out of the factory," the man joked.

Arthur couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. That sentence was... not convincing. Lao was holding a hammer, with nails, saws, scalpels, and all sorts of other tools strewn across a mobile trolley nearby. Just looking at the setup made Arthur's scalp crawl. It was more shocking than anything he had seen in a scavenger's warehouse.

If Arthur didn't know Lao well, he might have been scared off by the sight.

But Lao didn't respond to Arthur's complaint. Instead, he turned to the guy on the table and asked, "Do you know what a black hand is?"

The patient, trying to be witty, immediately responded, "I know! Morgan is the mastermind!"

Victor, who was standing nearby, and Arthur both twitched at the mention of Morgan. Lao's hammer missed the nail and struck the man's hand.

"Ouch!" The man let out a shrill scream, one that sounded like a pig being slaughtered. The sound made Arthur shudder in sympathy.

It was clear that Lao could be both a skilled and brutal practitioner. Arthur quickly realized it was best not to offend someone like that.

"Alright, Lao, keep doing your thing. I'm just here to borrow some equipment and process a few things," Arthur quickly said, trying to steer the situation back to normal.

He awkwardly rubbed his nose and walked over to the workbench Lao had set up. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a regular chip, placed it on the table, and began modifying it.

While Lao might not be a mechanic, it wasn't uncommon for prosthetic doctors to make modifications to prosthetics. Some clients had unusual requests—things like installing small steel cannons or asking for additional layers of iron sheets. The standard prosthetics might be functional, but many wanted to add more layers of armor or gadgets, despite warnings about overheating or fire hazards. People in Night City were always focused on making things bigger, better, and more dangerous.

Lao didn't pay much attention to Arthur. He was focused on his patient while Arthur worked away at his own task. The two had known each other for many years, so Lao wasn't surprised by Arthur's habit of tinkering with equipment.

As he continued his work, Lao introduced the man on the operating table. "This is Jack's new mercenary. If you're ever in need of help, you can team up with him."

Arthur glanced up. He had already recognized Jack, but without Lao's introduction, he wasn't sure how to approach him. In Night City, it was best not to casually greet people you didn't know, as you never knew what kind of trouble they might be hiding. Some people had secrets—like peeking at a widow taking a bath—and it wasn't uncommon for them to retaliate aggressively.

Victor continued introducing the two men. "That's Arthur over there, an old-school mercenary. When you were a kid, he was already causing chaos in Night City. He's an out-and-out cybermaniac, but he's experienced enough to lead a novice like you."

Arthur immediately shot a look of annoyance at Victor. "Can we stop talking about my cyberpsychosis? It's cured now. You're ruining my reputation here. Everyone I meet keeps saying I'm still a cyberpsycho."

Victor's expression shifted when he heard Arthur. Given that Arthur spent all his time in the prosthetic clinic and never ventured outside, people often joked that he was more reclusive than a hermit. If anything, it seemed like his cyberpsychosis had never truly healed. After all, Arthur had caused some pretty significant trouble in Night City, leading to rumors that he was a cyberpsycho.

"Hello, Jack," Arthur greeted the man lying on the table, offering a nod. "I heard Mrs. Wells from the Wolf Bar has a son named Jack. Could that be you?"

Jack, still somewhat confused by the situation, responded with a raised eyebrow. "You know my mother?"

Victor chuckled at the exchange. "Arthur's name is on the blacklist of the Wild Wolf Bar, but that was over ten years ago. I'd guess the blacklist doesn't matter anymore."

Arthur shrugged. "At the time, I was just helping Mrs. Wells eliminate a threat. But somehow, she still ended up putting me on the blacklist. It was totally unreasonable. Thankfully, I'm still a regular there."

Victor let out a laugh, nearly bursting into tears. "What you mean by 'eliminating a threat' is that you used weapons of mass destruction in the Wolf Bar and nearly blew the place to pieces, right?"

Jack's eyes widened at the mention of this. He was stunned. Mrs. Wells wasn't the kind of person who took nonsense. Running a bar in a neighborhood filled with gang members was a testament to her strength and influence.

Jack had also been part of the Valentino Gang before he left, so he understood the dynamics. For a gang to hold power, there had to be rules. People couldn't just walk in and out whenever they pleased. If that were the case, the gang's reputation would be ruined, and its members would never take it seriously.

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