Chapter 11 Excerpt:
"Arthur! You were the one who stole my brother's car?!"
"You actually robbed our Sixth Street Gang of supplies? Are you insane? Kneel under the stars and stripes and apologize you traitorous bastard!"
Arthur Scott had barely stepped out of the garage—more of a hidden base than an actual shop—when he was greeted by a shouting match.
A group of heavily armed men stood in formation outside. Most wore body armor, bandoliers, and old camouflage gear. But the effect was ruined by their tacky tattoos, unlit cigars, and the reckless, twitchy energy of street punks.
These were members of the Sixth Street Gang—a group originally formed by war veterans to protect their neighborhoods after the war. Back then, they stood for order.
But as Arthur knew too well, heroes didn't stay heroes in Night City. These days, Sixth Street wasn't so different from any other gang—just with better slogans and worse fashion sense.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. Camouflage, mohawks, aviators, and zero trigger discipline? You're not soldiers. You're LARPing with real bullets.
Just then, Lucy sprinted out from the garage behind him, pistol in hand and eyes wide.
She froze.
"Can I just say I was passing by?" she offered quickly, voice high with panic. "I have nothing to do with him."
Sixth Street didn't even glance at her.