Chapter 4: Victor, Victor!
Although David had always loved watching Dark Braindances—blood-soaked, chaotic, and violent simulations designed for cheap thrills—experiencing real violence was a completely different matter.
In a Braindance, no matter how realistic, there was always a thin, invisible barrier protecting your mind: the knowledge that it wasn't real. No matter how many gunshots rang out, how much blood sprayed, some part of you always understood—this isn't reality.
But when the blood is real, when the stench of burned flesh and fear clings to the air, when the screams aren't part of a soundtrack but rip straight through your ears...
That protection collapses.
Reality was brutal, merciless, and inescapable.
And David, right now, was crumbling under its weight.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the boy gagging and retching behind him, his disgust evident.
"You're only at this level, and you still dare to like Black Braindances? What a waste," Arthur sneered, cocking his shotgun and pressing forward through the carnage without slowing. "Too weak, you won't survive a week in Night City. Get up and follow me, or you're dead meat."
He didn't wait for a response, striding confidently down the blood-slick corridor.
Despite the nausea twisting his gut, despite the tears pricking his eyes, David bit down hard on his lower lip. After a long moment, he wiped his mouth with a trembling hand, tightened his grip on the pistol Arthur had shoved at him, and forced his legs to move.
Because Arthur was right.