Chapter 55: The Afterlife

In the night, the roar of the colossal beast echoed once more as it sped away through the gap it had smashed open earlier.
Behind the wheel, V held it steady with one hand while the other pulled a metal cube from her pocket.

Arthur glanced at it, then looked away, thinking for a moment she was pulling out a cigarette.

“You know, guess what I was doing just now.”

Arthur answered flatly.
“Guess? Drawing maps in secret? Damn it, I hate riddles.”

“Tying up loose ends.
See, processing CHOOH₂ runs in two stages: long-term anaerobic fermentation, then final aerobic treatment.
I opened the oxygen valve on one of the tanks. Give it a moment—you’ll see a hell of a show.”

She tossed the cube lightly in her hand, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips.
Clearly, she’d felt the same disgust at that place’s inhumane horrors.

By now, the truck had gone far enough—at least in V’s judgment.
She pried open the cube’s top with her thumb, then snapped it down with a sharp crack.

The instant she hurled it out the window, a tremendous shockwave kicked the rear of the truck forward.
Like the sun falling from the sky, orange-red fire lit up the night, banishing the darkness in an instant.

In the rearview mirror, Arthur caught only a fireball blooming over the CHOOH₂ plant.
Then came the roar—deafening, like a tsunami swallowing the world.

“Nice work.”

The blaze reflected in Arthur’s eyes, and for a moment, it felt as though the fire had burned away every shadow in his chest.

“What did you say?”

Amid the thunder of the blast, V sensed him speaking and called back.

“Damn it—I said… good job, V.”

“Good. And Arthur, you’ve got a sweet tongue.”

Her grin widened.

The truck thundered through the glow of the fire behind them, racing toward Night City.
The road was clear. With a high-ranking Arasaka counterintel exec covering their backs, not even routine checks slowed them down.

Soon, neon and crowds wrapped around them once more. In barely half a day, their journey had swung from one extreme to another.
First order of business: get the three wounded to Vik.

“Look at this lot. Not a one of you can walk straight, but at least we didn’t leave anyone behind.”

Viktor’s face cracked into a smile as he looked them over.
He’d been waiting at the clinic, and now, seeing the sight he’d been hoping for, his fatigue and worry lifted.

Arthur pointed toward David, the worst off, as Vik strapped on his medkit.
“Start with this kid. Don’t want him ending up like Pilar.”

Rebecca shot Arthur a furious glare, but he just dropped into a chair without a second thought.

Treatment lasted the entire night, Vik’s deep voice echoing in the underground clinic as he worked.

Arthur glanced at the fresh bandages on his shoulder, finally voicing the question that had been eating at him.
Why had that monster underground been so much faster with its Sandevistan than David?

“Listen. Sandevistan only boosts reaction speed. It doesn’t directly make the body faster.”

By dawn, Vik was finally done. He leaned back with a steaming cup of coffee, explaining casually.

“No ordinary human body can actually keep up with that level of reaction time.
Unless they’re a cyberpsycho.”

“So that thing… an artificial psycho.”

Rebecca swung her legs idly, as always.

Only three of them had actually seen the monster—and V had gone straight off after they got back to the city.
The others hadn’t fought it directly, but Arthur and Rebecca’s descriptions were enough to paint a picture of the danger.

“Oh, about that drug from the Gig—the one that might cure David’s mom? We brought it back.”

Arthur leaned back, relaxed, and asked David directly.
“So, kid, what’s the plan? Shoot her up with it, or something else?”

David grinned sheepishly at Vik, who couldn’t help but laugh.
“Alright, I’ll check it out. But with what I know, I can’t promise much.”

Vik’s modesty only made David thank him harder. Anyone who’d seen Vik work knew better than to doubt him.

The three weren’t badly hurt—just needed a few quiet days to recover.

As for the payout, V had said that after compensating the ten expendables, there’d still be over six hundred thousand eddies left.
Split among the crew, it made for a hefty payday.

By the following evening, even if the wounds hadn’t fully healed, the bone-deep exhaustion from yesterday was gone.
Arthur had grown used to Night City—it only truly came alive at night.

That night, V invited everyone from the Gig to a gathering.

The Afterlife. The most famous bar in Night City.

It sat in Little China, a modest district, yet stood as the beating heart of the city’s gray zone.
Fixers bragged about closing deals here. Mercs flaunted their drinks here like badges of honor.
At its core, it was the city’s information hub—the biggest underground market of intel. If an answer existed—whether you should know it or not—you’d find it here.

That’s what gave it its unique power. Everyone gave it respect.

Like every legendary place, the Afterlife was hidden in plain sight, tucked in an unassuming basement.
A ritual, really—a secret everyone knew, because everyone knew exactly where to find it.

Outside, in the rundown parking lot, Arthur and the crew waited. Naturally, the one who’d invited them was the last to show.

From a distance, the roar of an impatient engine drew closer, until a pristine white sports car came tearing in.
Its growl was raw and guttural as it screeched to a halt in front of them.

V stepped out, looking nothing like she had before.

Sharp black trousers hugged her long legs. A fitted gray vest sat beneath a slim, elegant yellow coat.
The floral embroidery across it was intricate, the stitching so fine it was clearly no cheap piece.

“Look at her. Like a hen with peacock feathers.”

Arthur smirked.
“Since you’re buying, I’ll drink extra and puke all over those feathers.”

“Please, Arthur, you can’t even handle a few glasses.”

V slammed the car door shut. Maybe because she was late, she didn’t bother biting back at his trash talk.

“Listen up. From Westbrook to Watson at this hour? Not easy.
But I’m here to split the money.”

She led them straight toward the stairs into the basement.

On the way, Jackie slid up beside her, grinning ear to ear.
“Herrera Outlaw GTS? I figured someone like you would spring for something better.
Like a Rayfield, maybe.”

Jackie had no resistance to rides—bikes, cars, didn’t matter.

“Haha. But I crammed a few extras in. Only a Caliburn’s big frame could hold them.”

V’s tone was coy, leaving Jackie itching with curiosity.

Up ahead, at the door of the Afterlife, V nodded to the hulking bouncer and walked straight inside.