Arnold parked at the roadside. Berry opened the door and got in.
Since she needed Arnold to act human, she had rented him a small apartment and bought him a car of his own. Unlike poor V, she paid in full.
Arnold's ride was a Thorton Mackinaw MTL1, a multi-purpose heavy pickup.
Sturdy but not clumsy; affordable but reliable.
Perfect for both crowded city streets and the desert outskirts.
If she wanted, she could even weld a heavy machine gun onto the roof.
Its cold, powerful aesthetic matched Arnold's all-black look perfectly. Sitting in the passenger seat, Berry felt the engine rumbling beneath her feet.
With a mental command, the sunglasses-wearing, stone-faced Arno started the engine.
Honestly, it felt strange.
She had two sets of senses at once—her own, and Arnold's sensor-based vision and hearing.
If not for her system's support, she might have developed dissociation, unable to tell who was controlling whom.
But at least there was a difference—Arnold's sensations were synthetic, collected by sensors. It wasn't real biological sensation.
It was like playing a video game—she was operating the character on screen.
Finally, she found the right comparison.
The brakes pressed.
They arrived—Megabuilding 10, where she and V had their little den, and where her secret workshop was.
She wasn't stupid enough to confront the Scavengers unarmed. She needed gear.
She always carried her pistol, Vitamin B, but she had something else in mind—her new creation.
Inside the workshop, she found it—
A kinetic power-arm brimming with exposed wires and metal plates. Crude, because it was a prototype.
While building new bodies, she'd also been developing ways to strengthen her own combat ability—and V's.
Without modifying her flesh, the only option was exoskeleton-style designs, the opposite of cyberware.
In this cyber world, because implant tech was so advanced, exoskeleton development lagged. Existing models were mostly large industrial frames—no mature compact versions.
Berry wanted to fill that gap.
This power-arm was the first prototype, based on the mechanics of cyberarms. Unrefined, but powerful enough to test.
Her system interface displayed:
"Kinetic Power-Arm Prototype[Rare]
Evaluation: A weird creation of cheap industrial piping and low-quality batteries. Makes shooting and manual labor equally effortless."
Ignoring the sarcastic comment, she switched it on and slid her arm inside. Metal plates folded layer by layer up to her shoulder. Blue light glowed between the seams as the thermal battery activated. A vibration followed—and power surged into her hands.
Tests showed it increased her Strength by at least 3 points, totaling 11—enough to match some cyber-enhanced mercs.
Without hesitation, she equipped it, returned to the truck, and drove toward the border of Kabuki and Northside.
She needed to talk to Charles, the suspicious ripperdoc client.
If he was involved, she'd make sure he regretted it.
She hated being used—especially when it involved her money.
Kabuki had once been a proud medical hub for Japanese corporations in Watson. But after Arasaka crushed or drove out the competition, Kabuki became one of Night City's poorest districts (excluding Pacifica).
But Night City never lacked people.
Soon the area filled with returning Chinese immigrants, morphing into a shadowy black-market bazaar.
Crowded alleys, junk shops, low-grade cosmetics stalls, cheap thrift stores—
all lit by Chinese lanterns and flickering neon.
Northern warehouses and abandoned factories were occupied by gangs, temps, and junkies.
Tiger Claws operated here. So did some Maelstrom from Northside. But neither claimed the area.
The power vacuum let the Mox step in. Lizzie's Bar—one of Kabuki's most popular braindance clubs and brothels—was under their control.
At night, Kabuki was the black-market heart of Night City.
Implants, organs, combat drugs, cyber-components, steroids, synthetic viruses, braindance shards—anything could be bought if you knew where.
Some said hidden ripperdocs installed illegal military-grade prototypes smuggled from Chiba labs or Scandinavian bio-clinics. Guides always warned:
Scavenger-supplied goods were everywhere.
Those monsters stalked clueless tourists, dragged them underground, butchered them, then sold the implants to shameless ripperdocs.
"That's just jungle rules," an experienced Kabuki guide said. "Scavs run their business freely. Cops won't check this area. The only police here are detectives hunting corporate tech thieves or missing persons."
Noon, at a narrow Kabuki alley.
The car door opened. Berry stepped out, boots landing on the ground.
Around the corner was the address Viktor gave—Charles's ripper clinic.
She pushed the door open and entered.
Arnold's frame drew too much attention, so he stayed in the car. Berry would test Charles alone first.
Sterilizer mixed with the stench of blood hit her immediately. She frowned. This ripperdoc clearly didn't care about hygiene. Cutting arms and legs was normal, but Old Vik always kept his clinic spotless—no trace of blood smell.
The room was empty, filled only with old surgical chairs and display cases showcasing expensive implants lit by spotlights—lest customers miss their gleaming luxury.
Inside the shop were even more cheap goods, all lined up on shelves. Many were obviously second‑hand cyberware, crammed into barrels—several barrels full. Quality aside, at least this guy's stock was plentiful.
Berry walked alone between the shelves, scanning the mechanical implants of every shape and age, ranging from half a century old to just a few days ago.
Looking at these arms, legs, synthetic spines, all hanging in disarray, Berry felt bored. They were all cheap junk, useless to her.
"Hey, who's there?" Hearing Berry's footsteps, the door to the rest room opened, and half a body peeked out.
The man's tone was fierce but hollow. He held a small knife, trembling as he poked his head out. After glancing around and confirming it was only Berry, a lone girl, he breathed a sigh of relief and stepped out.
"Welcome, welcome~" The man instantly switched to a slick, businesslike tone. Out of habit as a ripperdoc, he gave Berry a full scan from head to toe, judging what grade of merchandise she could afford. "Sit down, take a look. I've got everything here."
"Doctor Charles?" Though his gaze was rude, Berry didn't want to startle him. She forced herself to act like a customer shopping for cyberware, looking at him with a mix of one part caution, two parts flattery, three parts unease, and four parts worry.