Chapter 60: I Still Have a Project!

Michael immediately raised his hands in surrender, his expression shifting to one of genuine fear. He could tell Arthur had lost any interest in negotiation and was done entertaining excuses.

"W-Wait! I don't have any money left! That's why I'm behind on the workers' wages!"

Arthur sneered, then kicked over a bucket of chemicals beside him. "No money for wages, but plenty to buy these chemical reagents? Do you think the bullets in my pistol are BB pellets?"

To make his point, Arthur aimed his pistol at the floor and fired. The loud crack of the shot echoed through the dim basement, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating the grimy space.

As the acrid smell of gunpowder hung in the air, Arthur noticed a familiar logo on a small package tucked into the corner. It was unmistakable—the emblem of the Whirlpool Gang.

His eyes narrowed. The package, looking as pristine as if it were from over a decade ago, all but confirmed his suspicions. Arthur turned back to Michael, his voice icy.

"You've got the nerve to deal with products from the Whirlpool Gang? Aren't you afraid this stuff will fry all your synapses?"

If Arthur's instincts were right, the package likely contained eleven units of Twinkle, a substance notorious for its lethality. Like a more potent version of narcotics, a single misstep with Twinkle could lead to instant death—and a one-way trip to the underworld.

Michael shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? Inspiration comes from the strangest places. These help me relieve stress and think creatively about new products."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You mean the same creative genius that made a potion to grow cockroaches the size of a housecat?"

Michael gave a nervous chuckle and continued. "Listen, if I had the kind of money I used to, I'd pay the workers immediately. But the truth is, my factory is on the brink of bankruptcy."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"I'm serious!" Michael insisted. "Ever since relations between Militech and Night City began to improve, the market has been flooded with cheaper products from outside. My factory couldn't compete. I had to sell it to those Militech dogs just to stay afloat."

He gestured to the lab around him. "Now I'm stuck here, trying to develop something revolutionary. If I give the workers their wages, it won't make a difference in Night City. But if I succeed, I could make Night City great again!"

Arthur sighed heavily. "So, what's your brilliant plan? Turn cockroaches into pets for corporate overlords?"

"No, no," Michael said quickly. "If you don't like that project, I have others!"

Arthur scratched his head, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "Alright, what else have you got?"

Michael's face lit up. "You know how advanced prosthetic technology has become, right? Well, there's a problem no one talks about—mosquitoes can't penetrate prosthetic skin to suck blood. And with the mass extinction of animals, mosquitoes have all but disappeared."

Arthur nodded. It was true. He hadn't seen a mosquito since arriving in Night City. Even the homeless people on the streets had outdated prosthetics, and mosquitoes couldn't pierce plastic or synthetic skin.

"And?" Arthur asked.

"I've developed a genetically enhanced mosquito," Michael said proudly. "It can pierce prosthetic skin and draw blood directly from the host. But that's not all—it can inject a virus that causes unbearable itching and irritation.

"Additionally," Michael continued, "I've engineered them to be resistant to most pesticides. These mosquitoes can adapt and spread quickly. In less than six months, they'll dominate Night City. Within four years, they'll infest the entire world.

"And guess what? Only I'll have the formula for the agent that can kill them. Once I open a factory to produce it, I'll be rolling in money!"

Arthur: "...Hiss…"

Rock:

Arthur stared at Michael in stunned disbelief. He had encountered his fair share of lunatics in Night City, but this man was on another level.

"This guy isn't just evil—he's the definition of a bad seed. Pure poison from head to toe," Arthur muttered.

Taking a deep breath, Arthur turned to Rock and said, "Alright, Rock, you know what to do. Beat him senseless. If he doesn't cough up the money, beat him until he does!"

Rock grinned, his expression turning dark. He holstered his pistols and cracked his knuckles menacingly.

"Finally! I've been itching to do this since we walked in. You've wasted enough time talking to this scumbag."

Arthur stepped aside, ignoring Michael's pleas for mercy. Meanwhile, he pulled out a separation chip and plugged it into Michael's computer, downloading all the data stored within.

The files were exactly what Arthur expected—schematics, blueprints, and research notes for projects that were as unethical as they were dangerous.

"This kind of knowledge doesn't belong in your hands," Arthur muttered. "It's safer with me."

He couldn't help but linger on the cockroach-growth formula. As horrifying as the concept was, it held intriguing possibilities.

"If it works on cockroaches, maybe it could be adapted for livestock," Arthur thought. "Imagine chickens bigger than humans. One drumstick could feed a family for days."

Of course, Arthur didn't actually intend to pursue such experiments. But the information could prove valuable in the right hands—or at least kept out of the wrong ones.

Rock's punches echoed through the room as Michael screamed for mercy. Arthur smirked, pocketing the separation chip.

"Mosquitoes in winter? Sounds like a hell of a business opportunity," Arthur said sarcastically.

With Michael subdued and his plans thwarted, Arthur and Rock prepared to leave. They had completed their mission—but not without uncovering just how deep the rot in Night City ran.

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