Chapter 41: Leaving the City

After lunch, Arthur savored the lingering taste of beef, a rare reminder of life’s pleasures.
Not a scrap of the two boxes of natural beef remained. When it was over, Jackie even looked at V with longing eyes.

“You don’t really think I’ve got plenty of this stuff, do you? Getting even a single feather out of those tightfisted bastards upstairs is already a miracle.”

Arthur stretched lazily. Their next task was stealing an Electromagnetic Core; the intel work, of course, fell to V—the Arasaka spook in charge.

“All four wireless power plants are built and fully controlled by Night Corp. Best we don’t cross them.”

Night Corp—the megacorporation lurking behind Night City, responsible for nearly all of its infrastructure.
Highways, power grids, rail transit—it was always there, invisible yet indispensable. The city’s foundation.
Though its influence had waned in recent years under pressure from Militech and Arasaka, it still permeated every corner of Night City.

“Looks like you’ve got this figured out already.”
Jackie flopped lazily onto the sofa.

“Right. These cores don’t last long—they get airlifted in from outside the city almost every month.
From the Air Traffic Control Center, they’re loaded onto trucks bound for the power plants.
We’ll hit them during that short stretch of road.”

V was already dressed in a black combat suit made of a rugged synthetic blend. Her long black hair was tied high, several guns strapped across her body.
“Let’s move. We strike in the Badlands. The quieter, the better.”

...

In the underground garage of the luxury complex, each space was its own micro-garage. When V opened hers, she immediately spotted the old junker Arthur and Jackie had brought.

Like Jackie, V preferred motorcycles. That was why she’d told the two men to come in a regular car—riding in full gear would’ve been far too conspicuous.

“You two… where the hell did you dig up this antique?”

She tugged at the door, listening to it rattle, and grimaced.

Jackie shrugged, opening the driver’s door with a sheepish grin.
“Arthur salvaged it from a scrapyard. If you go by price alone, it’s beautiful.”

Arthur squeezed past V at the back, rolled down the window, grabbed the inner handle, and yanked the sliding door open at last.
Turning sideways, he gestured for V to climb in.
“Hop in, ma’am. You can trust my old buddy—it’s never let us down yet.”

Once V got in, Arthur slammed the door shut. It didn’t lock.
After several failed attempts, he gave up trying.

Kicking the door in frustration, Arthur looked to V inside.
“Looks like it’s on you. Try it from the inside, ma’am.”

With an ignition sputter like an old man clearing his throat, the car rolled out of the garage.

Driving through Westbrook’s busiest streets, Arthur’s clunker actually sat higher than the roaring Caliburns tearing past.

In the backseat, V pulled out a red customs pass and handed it to Arthur in the passenger seat.
“This’ll get us past the checkpoint. Just bluff your way through.”

Arthur turned the slip over, frowning.
“What the hell is this?”

Jackie kept his eyes on the road but answered anyway.
“Pass to leave Night City. Cops check every car to stop stolen goods from getting out. They’ll scan it, maybe ask us to step out, maybe not. I dunno all the details.”

From the back, V gave a sharp, cold laugh.
“That pass carries the Counterintelligence division’s seal. Forget stepping out—if they even dare shine a scanner light at us, I’ll be impressed.
Those bastards are only good at skimming off the top. When things get serious, they’ll run faster than rabbits.”

“Gotta admit, that’s some clout.”
Jackie chuckled.

...

As the roads thinned out, the checkpoint loomed ahead.

Heavy concrete barriers split the lanes into nearly ten, with a tall cement wall stretching to the horizon on both sides.
A waist-high barrier striped yellow and black blocked the path ahead.

Jackie eased the car to a stop.

Soon, an automated voice called out. The barrier lowered slowly.
“Proceed to the inspection zone.”

Jackie eyed the armed guards standing nearby and muttered,
“Looks official enough, huh?”

He drove the junker into the lane.

A soldier in red goggles approached the passenger side and tapped on the window.

Arthur rolled it down, handing over the pass. His voice dropped, calm but deliberate.
“Friend, we’re on urgent business. If we piss off the wrong people, nobody here will walk away unscathed.”

At first, the soldier looked indifferent. But the second he saw the pass’s color, his whole demeanor changed. He bolted straight for the guardhouse.

Arthur smirked.
“Look at him run. When it’s about his paycheck, he could crawl on all fours and I wouldn’t judge.”

The barrier dropped almost immediately, long before the soldier returned.

When he finally came back, panting, he leaned toward the window.
“Gentlemen—” He gulped down a breath. “Good luck.”

Arthur took the pass back, and they drove on.

“I’ve got a base in the Badlands. It’s stocked with high-performance bikes—we’ll need them.”

Once they left the city, it felt like entering another world.

Yellow sand whipped against the glass in sharp bursts. The land stretched barren in every direction, flat as a freshly shaved head.
Now and then, crumbling houses dotted the roadside, nothing more than abandoned ruins.

Following V’s lead, they barreled down the highway, made a few turns, and arrived at their destination. Another ruin, deserted and forgotten.

They wound their way into an abandoned courtyard.

“Let’s go. Grab the rides and head straight to the ambush.”
V swung open the door and strode into the ruins.

Arthur hesitated, then reached back to shut the car door before following.

The stairways inside were narrow, winding down into the dark until nearly all light vanished.

On the mottled brick wall, V found a hidden panel and tapped it.

A dark blue glow spread, solidifying into a full-sized door.

“Three bikes inside. Pick one. We leave now.”

The base was tight and rectangular. Medical gear hung on one wall, stacks of ammo boxes lined the floor.
Across the room, three waist-high crates stood in neat rows—inside were the bikes V had promised.

“I’ll… stick to my car.”
Arthur’s voice was flat. He could barely handle four wheels—two seemed like madness.
Some wagons had two wheels, sure—but they sat side by side.

“Don’t be stupid, Arthur.
Your junker can’t keep up with the target.”

After two days together, V had grown more direct with him.

Jackie stayed quiet, just grinning at Arthur.

Arthur ignored them, staring at the dust as he kicked it with his boot.
“Since we know their route, I’ll block them from the front. Safer that way.”

One hand resting on his belt, he leaned casually against the doorway, showing no intention of stepping inside.