## Chapter 1 — A Chair The first sign that something was wrong was Kiro. The second sign was that she was voluntarily reading historical records. The third sign was that she had been doing it for nearly two hours. --- Ace walked into the Safehouse common room carrying coffee. Stopped. Looked at Kiro. --- Looked again. --- Then slowly sat down. --- "How bad is it?" --- Kiro didn't answer immediately. --- Which was never encouraging. --- Instead she rotated her agent display toward Ace. --- A photograph appeared. --- Ace blinked. --- "...chair." --- "Chair." --- Ace stared at it. --- An old wooden chair. Nothing more. Nothing less. --- No glowing runes. No eldritch geometry. No ominous green fog. --- Just a chair. --- Ace looked at Kiro. --- Then back at the chair. --- Then back at Kiro. --- "Collector wants a chair." --- "Collector wants this chair." --- "Why?" --- Kiro slowly lowered the display. --- "That's what I asked." --- The room remained quiet for several seconds. --- Then Mai entered from the kitchen. Coffee in hand. --- One glance. --- "Artifact?" --- Kiro pointed at the display. --- Mai looked. --- Paused. --- "...chair." --- "Chair." --- The exchange somehow felt familiar. --- A few moments later Shammy wandered into the room. Still carrying the unmistakable energy of somebody who had only recently decided to be awake. --- She glanced at the image. --- Then at Kiro. --- Then at Ace. --- Then at Mai. --- "...chair." --- "Chair." --- Nobody elaborated. --- Nobody needed to. --- The artifact sat quietly on the display. --- Looking completely harmless. --- Which somehow made everybody suspicious. --- Ace eventually leaned forward. --- "So what's special about it?" --- Kiro inhaled. --- Slowly. --- The kind of inhale people took before delivering bad news. --- "The official name is Dead Man's Chair." --- The room became quiet. --- Ace immediately pointed. --- "There it is." --- "There what is?" --- "The point where the chair stops being a chair." --- Kiro resumed reading. --- "The legend says that people who sit in it die." --- Silence. --- Then: --- "Eventually." --- Mai looked up. --- "Eventually?" --- Kiro shrugged. --- "Some immediately." --- A pause. --- "Some years later." --- Another pause. --- "One guy lasted twenty-seven years." --- Ace brightened slightly. --- "See?" --- Kiro continued reading. --- "Then a horse kicked him to death." --- The optimism vanished immediately. --- Shammy smiled into her coffee. --- Ace pointed accusingly at the display. --- "I don't trust that chair." --- The chair remained entirely uninvolved. --- Which somehow felt suspicious. --- Kiro enlarged another section. --- Ownership history. --- The list continued. And continued. And continued. --- The room watched in growing concern. --- "That's a lot of dead owners." Mai observed. --- "Correct." --- "How many?" --- Kiro scrolled downward. --- Then downward again. --- Then downward a third time. --- "...a lot." --- That was not a reassuring answer. --- A few minutes passed. --- The artifact file continued unfolding. --- Historical references. Museum records. Academic papers. Legends. Arguments. Counterarguments. --- Several historians appeared to have spent entire careers trying to determine whether the curse was real. --- None of them seemed to agree. --- Ace eventually leaned back. --- "So." --- A pause. --- "We're stealing a cursed chair." --- "Yes." --- "From Scotland." --- "Yes." --- "For a collector." --- "Yes." --- "And we're getting paid that ridiculous amount." --- Kiro switched tabs. --- The compensation package appeared. --- The room became silent. --- Even after seeing it yesterday, the number still looked absurd. --- Completely absurd. --- The sort of payment that made people question basic economic theory. --- Ace nodded once. --- "Okay." --- Mai looked over. --- "Okay?" --- Ace pointed at the compensation package. --- "Okay." --- Shammy laughed. --- Actually laughed. --- Kiro shook her head. --- "I hate all of you." --- "No you don't." --- "No." --- A sigh. --- "I really don't." --- The room settled into a more comfortable silence. --- The artifact remained on the display. --- An old wooden chair. --- Somewhere in Scotland. --- Sitting quietly inside a museum. --- Completely unaware that a collector on the other side of the planet had decided he wanted it. --- Eventually Mai glanced at the schedule. --- "Flight leaves tomorrow morning." --- Kiro immediately opened another historical database. --- Ace noticed. --- "Oh no." --- "What?" --- "You're going to spend the entire evening reading about the chair." --- Kiro looked genuinely confused. --- "Of course I am." --- "Why?" --- Kiro pointed at the image. --- "Because people kept sitting in it." --- The room became silent. --- That was actually a fair question. --- A very fair question. --- And somehow, despite everything else in the dossier, it was the one thing nobody could explain. --- Outside, Night City continued its usual chaos. Inside the Safehouse, four people stared at a photograph of a chair. --- A completely ordinary chair. --- Which was rapidly becoming everybody's problem. --- ## Chapter 2 — Scotland The following morning, Kiro was still reading. Nobody was surprised. --- Ace was mildly disappointed. --- She had secretly hoped sleep might interrupt whatever strange relationship Kiro had developed with the chair. --- Apparently not. --- The netrunner occupied an airport terminal seat with three active displays floating around her. --- Historical records. Museum records. Ownership records. --- Chair records. --- Far too many chair records. --- Ace dropped into the seat beside her. --- "Still?" --- "Still." --- "Did you sleep?" --- Kiro considered the question. --- "Define sleep." --- "That answers my question." --- The terminal gradually filled with activity around them. --- Travelers. Businesspeople. Tourists. Mercenaries. --- The usual chaos of long-distance travel. --- Shammy wandered past carrying coffee. One for herself. One for Mai. One for Ace. --- None for Kiro. --- The netrunner looked offended. --- "I noticed." --- "You forgot to eat breakfast." --- "Research." --- "You forgot to sleep." --- "Research." --- "You forgot reality." --- "Research." --- Shammy continued walking. --- The discussion ended there. --- A few hours later they were airborne. --- For the first time in a very long time, Night City disappeared beneath them. --- The coastline drifted away. --- Then the ocean. --- Then clouds. --- Then time itself. --- Long flights had a strange way of removing urgency from the world. --- Everything became waiting. --- Ace spent most of the journey alternating between sleep and staring out the window. --- Kiro continued reading. --- Mai worked. --- Shammy somehow managed all three simultaneously. --- Eventually Europe appeared beneath them. --- The landscape looked different. --- Not dramatically. --- Subtly. --- The difference became more obvious as they approached Scotland. --- The first thing Ace noticed was the color. --- Green. --- An unreasonable amount of green. --- Fields. Trees. Hills. --- More fields. --- The second thing she noticed was the absence of things. --- No endless urban sprawl. --- No giant industrial zones. --- No corporate arcologies dominating the horizon. --- Just... Land. --- Actual land. --- Ace stared through the window. --- Then stared some more. --- Finally: --- "This place looks real." --- Silence. --- Then Kiro looked up from her research. --- "That's a very Night City sentence." --- Mai glanced out the opposite window. --- Neither disagreed. --- The aircraft descended. --- Scotland gradually unfolded beneath them. --- Small roads. Villages. Stone buildings. Rolling hills. --- The view looked almost historical. --- Not untouched. Not primitive. --- Just... Human. --- The realization lingered. --- A few hours later they reached Edinburgh. --- And immediately suffered a second cultural shock. --- Everything was made of stone. --- Not literally. --- It just felt that way. --- Stone walls. Stone buildings. Stone churches. Stone streets. Stone monuments. --- Centuries-old stone. --- The city looked like somebody had stubbornly refused to modernize entirely. --- Ace approved. --- Kiro stared at a building as they passed. --- Then at another. --- Then another. --- "How old is this city?" --- Mai answered without looking up. --- "Older than your database subscriptions." --- "That's not a useful unit of measurement." --- "It worked." --- It had. --- The argument ended. --- The hotel sat within easy reach of the old city. --- Equipment was secured. Rooms assigned. Plans reviewed. --- Then, for the first time since arriving, nobody had anything immediately demanding their attention. --- The strange realization hung in the air. --- Free time. --- Actual free time. --- In a foreign city. --- Before a heist. --- Shammy looked out the hotel window. --- Toward the city beyond. --- Then toward the distant rise overlooking Edinburgh. --- A faint smile appeared. --- "I have an idea." --- Ace immediately became suspicious. --- That expression usually led somewhere. --- "Should I be worried?" --- "No." --- "That wasn't reassuring." --- Shammy ignored her. --- Naturally. --- "Come on." --- "Where?" --- Shammy pointed toward the horizon. --- A hill rose above the city. Ancient. Quiet. Watching everything below. --- Arthur's Seat. --- Kiro looked up from her agent. --- "Isn't that a volcano?" --- "Former volcano." --- "That somehow sounds worse." --- Nobody listened. --- Twenty minutes later they found themselves climbing. --- The city gradually unfolded beneath them. --- Stone. Green. History. --- The higher they climbed, the stranger Edinburgh felt. --- Not because it was futuristic. --- Because it wasn't trying to be. --- Eventually they reached the top. --- And stopped. --- Nobody spoke. --- Because there was no immediate need. --- The city stretched below. --- Beyond it, water. --- Beyond that, distance. --- For several minutes the group simply stood there. --- Breathing. --- Looking. --- Existing. --- Night City suddenly felt very far away. --- Site-13 felt even farther. --- The silence remained comfortable. --- Then Kiro glanced up from her agent. --- "At least this trip isn't depressing." --- The statement hung in the air. --- Ace looked out across Edinburgh. --- Thought about Texas. --- Thought about Patel. --- Thought about Miller. --- Then sighed. --- "Give it time." --- For a second nobody reacted. --- Then Shammy laughed first. --- Mai followed. --- Kiro groaned. --- Ace grinned. --- And somewhere below them, entirely unaware of the attention it was receiving, Edinburgh Castle continued displaying a chair that nobody sensible should have wanted. --- Tomorrow night they were going to steal it. --- ## Chapter 3 — Recon The first thing Ace learned about Edinburgh Castle was that stealing something from it was a terrible idea. The second thing she learned was that they were absolutely going to do it anyway. --- The following morning arrived cold, gray, and slightly damp. --- Apparently Scotland considered this normal. --- The city itself looked almost unchanged from the previous day. --- Stone. History. Tourists. --- An unreasonable number of tourists. --- That last part quickly became a problem. --- The group moved through the castle grounds separately. --- Not because they were hiding. --- Because looking like tourists was easier when you behaved like tourists. --- Mai carried an audio guide she had no intention of listening to. --- Ace carried one because everybody else did. --- Kiro was genuinely interested in several exhibits. --- Which nobody had expected. --- Shammy somehow blended into the crowd effortlessly. --- As usual. --- The castle itself impressed Ace more than she intended to admit. --- Parts of it looked ancient. Actually ancient. --- Not "old for Night City." --- Not "old for California." --- Ancient. --- The kind of old that ignored modernity completely. --- Entire empires had risen and fallen while some of these walls remained exactly where they were. --- Ace found that mildly unsettling. --- Kiro found it fascinating. --- Mai found it useful. --- Shammy found it peaceful. --- Eventually they reached the museum section. --- The atmosphere changed immediately. --- More cameras. More staff. More barriers. --- Less freedom. --- More structure. --- Mai's attention sharpened. --- Now they were working. --- The artifact occupied a surprisingly modest display. --- No giant exhibit. No dramatic presentation. --- No flashing warning signs. --- Just a carefully lit section of the museum. --- And a chair. --- The chair. --- Dead Man's Chair. --- The first sight of it stopped the group more effectively than expected. --- Not because it looked frightening. --- Because it didn't. --- At all. --- It looked old. --- Worn. --- Used. --- The wood carried centuries of small scars and imperfections. --- A craftsman's work. --- Nothing supernatural. Nothing impossible. --- Nothing that suggested dozens of alleged deaths. --- Ace frowned. --- "That's it?" --- Mai didn't answer immediately. --- She was studying the security systems. --- Camera placement. Sensor coverage. Guard routes. --- The things that actually mattered. --- Meanwhile Kiro stood staring at the chair. --- "That thing has the worst public relations department in history." --- Ace glanced sideways. --- "What?" --- "It kills people." --- A pause. --- "Allegedly." --- "Fine." --- Another pause. --- "It allegedly kills people." --- Another. --- "And somehow still looks like furniture." --- The observation was difficult to argue with. --- Shammy quietly stepped closer to the display. --- Not too close. --- Just enough to study it properly. --- For several moments she simply watched. --- Then: --- "It looks lonely." --- The others turned. --- Shammy continued looking at the chair. --- "It spent centuries being passed from person to person." --- Silence. --- Then: --- "Now people keep it behind glass." --- Nobody immediately answered. --- Because that was a very Shammy observation. --- And annoyingly difficult to dismiss. --- Kiro pointed toward the display. --- "I'd feel worse for it if it wasn't apparently murdering people." --- That ended the philosophical discussion. --- The group slowly continued moving through the exhibit. --- Not because they had seen enough. --- Because staying too long attracted attention. --- And attention was the enemy. --- Several circuits later the picture became clearer. --- The problem wasn't the chair. --- The problem wasn't the security. --- The problem was humanity. --- Too many people. --- Everywhere. --- Tour groups. School groups. History enthusiasts. Travelers. Locals. --- Eyes. --- Thousands of eyes. --- Mai finally summarized the situation. --- "Security is manageable." --- Ace immediately knew there was a "but." --- There was always a "but." --- "But?" --- Mai looked toward another crowd entering the exhibit. --- "Tourists." --- The answer surprised nobody. --- "That's the problem?" Kiro asked. --- "That is the problem." --- The castle wasn't difficult to infiltrate. --- The castle wasn't difficult to escape. --- The artifact wasn't difficult to access. --- The difficult part was doing any of those things while half of Scotland watched. --- The realization settled over the group. --- Not impossible. --- Just annoying. --- Very annoying. --- By the time they left the museum, Mai already had the beginnings of a plan. --- Which was usually either very good news or very bad news. --- Sometimes both. --- The afternoon passed with additional observation runs. --- Additional routes. Additional timing checks. Additional confirmation. --- Everything gradually clicked into place. --- The heist was becoming possible. --- Dangerously possible. --- As the sun began setting over Edinburgh, the group finally returned toward the hotel. --- The castle remained behind them. --- Silent. Ancient. Watching. --- And somewhere inside those stone walls sat an old wooden chair. --- A chair that looked completely harmless. --- A chair that nobody sensible wanted. --- A chair that the Eccentric Collector was willing to pay an absurd amount of money to acquire. --- Ace glanced back one final time. --- Then shook her head. --- "I still don't trust that thing." --- Kiro immediately nodded. --- "Good." --- "Why?" --- "Because the more I read, the less I trust it too." --- That was not reassuring. --- Not even slightly. --- ## Chapter 4 — The History Nobody Wants By the time they returned to the hotel, Kiro had developed a problem. Again. --- Not a serious problem. --- Not an artifact problem. Not a cyberware problem. Not a Night City problem. --- A curiosity problem. --- Which was usually worse. --- The hotel suite had gradually transformed into a temporary research center. --- Data screens floated above tables. Historical records occupied entire walls. Several academic archives were currently being abused for purposes they had never intended. --- Kiro sat in the middle of it all. --- Naturally. --- Ace walked into the room carrying dinner. Stopped. Looked around. --- Then looked at Kiro. --- "What happened?" --- Kiro didn't look up. --- "Research." --- Ace looked around again. --- "There are seven active databases." --- "Research." --- "One of them is from 2024." --- "Historical research." --- The answer somehow made sense. --- Which worried Ace. --- Mai occupied one side of the room. --- Security plans. Schedules. Museum staffing records. --- Actual useful information. --- Unlike Kiro. --- Who was currently attempting to reconstruct four hundred years of chair-related disasters. --- Shammy sat near the window. Watching Edinburgh. Watching rain slowly drift across distant rooftops. --- The city somehow looked even older in bad weather. --- Which felt appropriate. --- Kiro suddenly made a noise. --- A very specific noise. --- The noise people made when reality stopped cooperating. --- Everyone looked up. --- "What?" Ace asked. --- Kiro stared at one particular document. --- Then another. --- Then a third. --- "No." --- Silence. --- Then: --- "No." --- Ace sat down. --- That tone never meant anything good. --- "What?" --- Kiro rotated one display. --- Historical ownership records appeared. --- A particular section had been highlighted. --- The room studied it. --- Then studied it again. --- Then Ace blinked. --- "Wait." --- A pause. --- "That guy survived." --- "Yes." --- The room stared. --- A man had apparently owned the chair for almost three decades. --- Thirty years. --- Nothing happened. --- No curse. No mysterious illness. No tragic accident. --- Nothing. --- Ace immediately pointed. --- "There." --- "What?" --- "Proof." --- A second point. --- "The chair is nonsense." --- Kiro remained silent. --- Then slowly enlarged another document. --- The death certificate. --- Ace read it. --- Paused. --- Read it again. --- "...horse." --- "Horse." --- The room became quiet. --- The man had survived twenty-seven years. --- Then been kicked to death by a horse. --- Nobody knew what to do with that information. --- Eventually Mai spoke. --- "Statistically unlikely." --- Kiro nodded. --- "Exactly." --- Ace looked offended. --- "People get kicked by horses." --- "Not often." --- "Often enough." --- "Not after twenty-seven years." --- Ace hated that argument because it made uncomfortable amounts of sense. --- Kiro continued reading. --- Another owner. --- Another death. --- Another owner. --- Another death. --- Another. --- Another. --- The pattern refused to become less concerning. --- Not because every death was impossible. --- Because every death was plausible. --- That was the problem. --- No lightning from clear skies. No spontaneous combustion. No reality collapse. --- Just bad luck. --- Awful. Relentless. Persistent. Bad luck. --- The kind that made statisticians cry. --- And Kiro had apparently reached exactly that point. --- She opened another document. --- Then froze. --- Ace noticed immediately. --- "What now?" --- Kiro slowly looked up. --- The expression was alarming. --- "You're not going to like this." --- "That's becoming a trend." --- Kiro enlarged a newspaper archive. --- Old. Very old. --- The article described a public exhibition. --- A skeptical historian. --- A challenge. --- A chair. --- The room read silently. --- Then simultaneously groaned. --- The historian had sat in the chair specifically to prove the curse wasn't real. --- He survived. --- For twelve years. --- Then died when lightning struck a tree. --- The tree fell onto his house. --- Ace stared. --- Then stared harder. --- Then pointed at the article. --- "No." --- Kiro nodded. --- "Yes." --- "No." --- "Yes." --- The room remained silent. --- Even Shammy looked concerned now. --- Not frightened. --- Concerned. --- There was a difference. --- A significant difference. --- Eventually Ace stood. --- Walked toward the minibar. --- Opened it. --- Closed it again. --- Turned back toward the room. --- "I have reached a conclusion." --- Nobody interrupted. --- "Nobody in human history should ever sit in that chair." --- The statement was met with immediate agreement. --- Universal agreement. --- Complete agreement. --- Not a single dissenting opinion existed. --- Kiro pointed at the display. --- "See?" --- Ace pointed back. --- "I already agreed." --- Another article appeared. --- Then another. --- Then another. --- Each one somehow making the situation worse. --- By midnight the room had reached a consensus. --- The curse might not be real. --- But nobody wanted to test the theory. --- Not even slightly. --- Especially not for a chair. --- A very old chair. --- A very cursed chair. --- A very expensive chair. --- And tomorrow night they were going to steal it. --- ## Chapter 5 — The Heist Edinburgh Castle closed at six. The tourists left. The staff left. The crowds vanished. --- The castle remained. --- Ancient stone beneath a gray Scottish sky. --- Waiting. --- The weather had deteriorated steadily throughout the day. --- Rain drifted across the city in irregular waves. Not heavy. Not dramatic. --- Just persistent. --- Apparently Scotland's preferred operating mode. --- Ace approved. --- Rain complicated visibility. --- Rain reduced foot traffic. --- Rain made security personnel slightly more interested in staying indoors. --- All useful qualities. --- By eleven o'clock that evening, the city had settled into a quieter rhythm. --- The Triad had not. --- The hotel room had transformed into a staging area. --- Equipment checks. Comms checks. Route confirmations. --- The familiar ritual before a job. --- Nobody was nervous. --- The plan itself was straightforward. --- Mai had spent nearly two days refining it. --- Which usually meant the dangerous part wasn't the plan. --- The dangerous part was reality. --- Reality rarely read mission briefings. --- Kiro remained behind. --- Not because she couldn't help. --- Because she was better utilized elsewhere. --- Monitoring. Research. Backup support. --- And because somebody needed to stay as far away from the chair as possible. --- Kiro had become surprisingly invested in that last point. --- "Remember." --- Ace paused while adjusting her jacket. --- "What?" --- Kiro pointed dramatically. --- "No sitting." --- Silence. --- Then Shammy laughed. --- Mai looked offended. --- Ace looked confused. --- "Why would I sit in it?" --- Kiro pointed harder. --- "Because humans are stupid." --- That was unfortunately difficult to argue against. --- Ten minutes later they were moving. --- The city felt different at night. --- Quieter. Older. --- The modern world receded slightly after dark. --- Stone remained. --- History remained. --- The castle remained. --- Watching the city from above exactly as it had for centuries. --- The approach phase went smoothly. --- Almost suspiciously smoothly. --- Mai disliked that immediately. --- Nothing ever went smoothly. --- Not really. --- Yet every checkpoint cleared. Every route aligned. Every timing estimate held. --- The operation unfolded exactly as planned. --- Which somehow felt ominous. --- The outer perimeter passed behind them. --- Then another. --- Then another. --- The museum wing gradually approached. --- No alarms. No complications. --- Just silence. --- The rain continued falling softly against ancient stone. --- Ace found herself appreciating the atmosphere despite the circumstances. --- Stealing cursed furniture in Scotland wasn't how she expected her week to go. --- But here they were. --- The final corridor appeared ahead. --- Mai checked the timing. --- Then nodded. --- Now. --- The group moved. --- Quick. Silent. Professional. --- The museum itself looked strange after hours. --- Empty. --- The absence of tourists changed everything. --- The displays felt larger. The shadows felt deeper. The silence felt heavier. --- And there, exactly where it had been that morning— --- Dead Man's Chair. --- Waiting beneath soft display lighting. --- Looking completely innocent. --- Ace immediately distrusted it. --- The chair remained unhelpfully chair-shaped. --- Mai approached the display first. --- Security systems. Sensors. Pressure monitors. --- Nothing unusual. --- Nothing supernatural. --- Just technology. --- Technology could be defeated. --- The next few minutes passed in concentrated silence. --- Systems disabled. Monitoring redirected. Safety measures bypassed. --- Methodically. --- Carefully. --- Professionally. --- Eventually the final barrier disengaged. --- A soft click echoed through the room. --- Nobody moved. --- The chair remained exactly where it was. --- Waiting. --- Ace stared at it. --- The chair stared back. --- Or at least felt like it did. --- "Still don't trust it." --- Shammy smiled. --- "Good." --- Mai looked toward Ace. --- "Lift." --- Ace pointed at herself. --- "Why me?" --- "Because you're smallest." --- "...that's not how lifting works." --- "Lift." --- Ace sighed dramatically. --- Then stepped forward. --- The room collectively watched. --- Not because they feared an alarm. --- Because nobody wanted accidental contact with the seat. --- That was somehow the more important concern. --- Ace carefully positioned herself. --- Hands on the frame. --- Not the seat. --- Definitely not the seat. --- She lifted. --- The chair rose. --- Nothing happened. --- The room visibly relaxed. --- A little. --- Not much. --- The artifact felt surprisingly normal. --- Wood. Weight. Age. --- Just a chair. --- An allegedly murderous chair. --- But still a chair. --- The transport case opened. --- Custom foam interior. Protective restraints. --- Far more effort than any chair deserved. --- Yet nobody complained. --- The chair settled into the case. --- The lid closed. --- Locks engaged. --- Silence. --- Then Ace took one step backward. --- Another. --- Another. --- Creating distance. --- Important distance. --- Healthy distance. --- Kiro's influence was spreading. --- Shammy noticed immediately. --- "You're backing away from it." --- "I'm being sensible." --- "That's new." --- "I learned from Kiro." --- That ended the discussion. --- The extraction phase began immediately afterward. --- The castle remained quiet. --- The rain remained steady. --- The city remained asleep. --- And somehow, impossibly, the operation continued exactly according to plan. --- No alarms. No guards. No last-minute disaster. --- The transport vehicle rolled away from Edinburgh Castle shortly after one in the morning. --- Inside sat three women. One reinforced artifact case. And a chair nobody trusted. --- The castle gradually disappeared behind them. --- For several minutes nobody spoke. --- Then finally Ace looked toward the secured case. --- "...we actually did it." --- Mai nodded. --- "Yes." --- Shammy looked out the rain-streaked window. --- Then toward the case. --- Then back outside. --- "We should leave Scotland tomorrow." --- Silence. --- Ace immediately agreed. --- "Absolutely." --- Nobody asked why. --- Nobody needed to. --- The chair remained secured. The chair remained contained. The chair remained somebody else's problem. --- For now. --- ## Chapter 6 — Temporary Custody They did not wait until morning. That decision took approximately four seconds. --- Once the artifact case was secured, Mai checked the extraction window, Kiro confirmed the transport route, Shammy looked at the rain sliding across Edinburgh's old stone, and Ace said the only thing that needed saying. --- "We're leaving." --- Nobody argued. --- By sunrise, Scotland was behind them. --- Not forgotten. Not dismissed. --- Just behind them. --- The flight back to Night City was uneventful in the exact way everyone preferred. The transport case remained sealed. The chair remained contained. Nobody opened it. Nobody touched it. Nobody joked about testing anything. --- This, Ace felt, was civilization. --- The problem began only after they reached the Safehouse. --- The case was brought inside under Mai's supervision and placed temporarily in the center of the common area. Temporarily. That word did a lot of work. --- For nearly a minute, nobody spoke. --- The case sat there. Black. Reinforced. Locked. A museum theft, an alleged curse, and several centuries of bad decisions compressed into one expensive container. --- Kiro stood with her arms folded. "I hate that we own this now." "We don't own it," Mai said. "We stole it." "Temporary custody." Kiro stared at her. "That is such a Mai sentence." --- Ace looked toward the sealed case. Then toward the rest of the Safehouse. "Where does it go?" --- That question turned out to be more difficult than the theft. --- The garage was rejected first. Too much movement. Too much humidity. Too much chance of somebody careless walking past it with equipment. --- The storage room was rejected second. Too crowded. Too many boxes. Too many reasons for somebody to reach blindly for something in the wrong corner. --- The armory was rejected immediately. Nobody wanted the cursed chair anywhere near weapons. That one required no discussion. --- The kitchen was not even considered. Ace mentioned it only to watch Kiro's face. Kiro did not disappoint. --- Eventually Mai chose the least bad option. A utility alcove off the rear corridor. Small. Dry. Lockable. Camera-covered. No furniture. No reason for anyone to linger. --- Most importantly, no reason for anyone to sit down. --- "Good," Ace said. "Good," Kiro agreed. Shammy looked amused. "Everyone sounds very reasonable right now." "Because nobody is sitting in the death chair," Ace said. "Alleged death chair," Mai corrected. Ace pointed at her. "No." Mai paused. Then nodded once. "Death chair." --- The case was moved into the alcove. Mai anchored it to the floor mount. Kiro added a second lock that was probably unnecessary and definitely emotionally satisfying. Ace added a third. Nobody commented. --- When everything was done, the chair remained sealed inside the transport case. No display. No dramatic reveal. No foolish curiosity. --- Just a contained artifact waiting for Friday the thirteenth. --- The Safehouse adjusted around it. Not immediately. Not dramatically. But visibly. --- People stopped using the rear corridor unless necessary. Kiro walked the long way around twice before pretending she had done it for exercise. Ace checked the locks every few hours. Mai checked the environmental readings. Shammy checked the room once, quietly, then left without saying much. --- That was almost worse than if she had said something. --- By the second evening, Kiro's research had not improved anyone's mood. She sat at the table with three historical records open and a fourth archive partially translated. The more she read, the less certain anything became. --- That was the chair's worst feature. Not the deaths. Not the legend. The uncertainty. --- Every case sounded possible. Every death had an explanation. A horse. A fever. A fall. A faulty carriage wheel. A lightning strike. Bad food. Bad weather. Bad timing. --- Nothing proved the curse. Nothing disproved it. --- Kiro finally leaned back and rubbed her eyes. "I've reached a conclusion." Ace looked up. "Good or bad?" "Yes." "That wasn't an option." "It is now." --- Mai glanced over from her own work. "What conclusion?" Kiro turned one display toward them. A long chain of ownership records appeared. Dates. Names. Deaths. Annotations. Disputes. Theories. --- "The curse might be fake." "Encouraging," Shammy said. Kiro held up one finger. "Or it might be patient." --- Nobody liked that. --- Ace stared toward the rear corridor. The alcove was out of sight from here. That helped. A little. --- "Patient how?" Kiro shrugged. "Some people died quickly. Some years later. Some decades later. If the pattern is real, it doesn't care about timing." --- Silence. --- Then Ace said, "I liked it better when it was a chair." "So did I." --- The Safehouse went quiet again. Not frightened. Not exactly. Just aware. --- Aware that behind a locked door sat an object old enough to have outlived everyone who ever underestimated it. Aware that nobody understood whether it was dangerous or merely surrounded by centuries of coincidence. Aware that Friday the thirteenth was still two days away. --- That night, before heading to bed, Kiro stopped near the rear corridor. She did not enter it. She simply looked toward the alcove door. --- Ace noticed from the common room. "Thinking about sitting in it?" Kiro turned sharply. "Absolutely not." "Good." "I am curious, not suicidal." "Sometimes those overlap." Kiro opened her mouth. Closed it. Then pointed at Ace. "Rude." "Accurate." "Still rude." --- The exchange helped. A little. --- The artifact remained sealed. The locks held. The monitors stayed clean. Nothing moved. Nothing whispered. Nothing happened. --- That was the problem. --- With Site-13, silence had eventually become grief. With Dead Man's Chair, silence became waiting. --- And by the time the second night ended, everyone in the Safehouse wanted the same thing. Friday. Collector. Payment. Departure. --- Preferably in that order. --- ## Chapter 7 — Friday the Thirteenth Friday arrived without drama. That made everyone suspicious. --- No alarms. No unexplained temperature drops. No historical coincidences. No sudden accidents. No strange dreams. No dead animals on the doorstep. --- Nothing. --- Just morning light through the Safehouse windows, Night City noise outside, and one sealed artifact case locked inside a rear utility alcove. --- Ace still checked it before breakfast. --- Kiro checked the monitoring logs after breakfast. --- Mai checked the delivery conditions twice. --- Shammy watched all three of them with the quiet amusement of someone who understood that fear sometimes looked exactly like professionalism. --- By noon, everyone wanted the chair gone. --- Nobody said that immediately. Nobody needed to. --- It had become part of the room without being in the room. A pressure behind a door. A task unfinished. A held breath. --- Not like Site-13. Site-13 had felt like memory waiting to be acknowledged. This felt like history waiting to become someone else's legal problem. --- At 13:13, Rogue's message arrived. Naturally. --- Kiro looked at the timestamp. Then at Mai. Then at Ace. --- "I hate him." Ace didn't ask who. The answer was obvious. --- Mai opened the message. The delivery location appeared. A private climate-controlled archive facility in Watson, technically owned by a shell company that owned another shell company that owned nothing except storage contracts and expensive silence. --- Very Collector. --- The delivery window was narrow. Twenty-one minutes. No early handoff. No late handoff. No direct conversation required. No additional personnel. No deviation. --- Kiro read the conditions and slowly leaned back. "He really does this on purpose." Mai nodded. "Yes." Ace looked toward the rear corridor. "As long as he pays." Kiro opened the payment confirmation. The first half had cleared already. The number still looked wrong. --- She stared at it. Then sighed. "I hate that this makes sense." "It doesn't make sense," Ace said. "It makes money." "That is a form of sense in Night City." --- Nobody argued. --- The day passed slowly. Too slowly. --- The artifact case stayed sealed. The locks stayed clean. The cameras showed nothing unusual. --- Kiro reviewed the chair's ownership chain one final time and finally closed the file with visible effort. Ace noticed. --- "Done?" "No." "Then why close it?" "Because I have decided knowledge is making this worse." Ace nodded. "Growth." "Don't patronize me." "Wouldn't dream of it." "You are absolutely dreaming of it." "Little bit." --- By late afternoon, the Safehouse had shifted into job rhythm again. Not heist rhythm. Handoff rhythm. Different tension. Less movement. More precision. --- Mai reviewed the route. Ace checked the case restraints. Shammy stood near the rear corridor for several moments before they moved it. --- Ace saw the stillness in her face. Not fear. Not exactly. --- "What?" Shammy looked toward the closed alcove door. Then back at Ace. "It's quiet." "The chair?" "The space around it." Ace waited. Shammy did not embellish. --- That made the statement worse. --- Mai heard it too. Her eyes moved from Shammy to the alcove, then to the monitoring screen. "Anything measurable?" "No." "Operational concern?" Shammy considered. Then shook her head. "No." A pause. "Just old." --- Old. That word sat there for a moment. --- Then Ace exhaled. "Great. We're transporting elderly furniture with murder rumors." Kiro raised a hand. "Alleged murder rumors." Ace pointed at her without looking. "You're not helping." "I wasn't trying to." --- The alcove was opened at dusk. --- Nobody rushed. Nobody joked. --- Mai disengaged the outer lock. Kiro disengaged the inner lock. Ace checked the case seal. Shammy remained near the corridor entrance, watching the Safehouse itself more than the artifact. --- The chair was never exposed. That had become policy. --- No reason to look at it. No reason to touch it. No reason to let curiosity create stupidity. --- The sealed case was lifted onto the transport rig. Anchored. Covered. Checked again. --- Then checked once more because Kiro insisted. --- Ace did not complain. --- The drive through Night City felt strangely ordinary. Traffic lights. Advertisements. Street vendors. Corporate patrols. A drunk man arguing with a vending machine. --- Life continued. --- Inside the vehicle, nobody touched the case. Nobody needed to. --- The archive facility waited behind an unremarkable security frontage. Plain walls. Clean gates. No signage worth remembering. --- The sort of place Night City used when money wanted privacy. --- Mai handled the outer credentials. Kiro monitored from the vehicle. Ace and Shammy moved the case. --- No one greeted them at the door. The first internal gate opened automatically. Then the second. Then the third. --- The building smelled sterile. Cold air. Filtered dust. Expensive preservation systems. --- Not a museum. Not a home. A place where things went when people wanted ownership without presence. --- Ace disliked it immediately. --- At the end of a short corridor, a delivery chamber waited. White walls. Steel floor. One reinforced table. One camera lens. No chairs. --- Ace noticed that last detail and approved. --- Mai checked the chamber. Clean. No visible traps. No unexpected personnel. No joke waiting in the corner. --- The case was placed on the reinforced table. --- For five seconds, nothing happened. --- Then a speaker clicked. A man's voice came through. Not the Collector's. Too flat. Too professional. --- "Artifact received. Please step back." --- Ace looked at Mai. Mai nodded once. They stepped back. --- A scanning frame descended from the ceiling. Blue light passed over the case. Once. Twice. A third time. --- Kiro's voice came through comms. "Scan is external only. No attempt to open the case." "Good," Ace murmured. --- The speaker clicked again. "Integrity confirmed. Delivery condition satisfied." --- A pause. --- "Payment will complete within thirty seconds." --- Kiro was already watching. --- Silence. --- Then: --- "Payment complete." --- Ace felt her entire body loosen by half a degree. Not relief. Not openly. --- But close. --- Mai remained still until the confirmation transferred through two separate channels. Then she nodded. "We're done." --- The words sounded better than they should have. --- Ace looked at the sealed case one final time. Not the chair. The case. --- Contained. Delivered. No longer theirs. --- "Enjoy your horrible furniture," she said. The speaker did not respond. --- That was probably for the best. --- They left immediately. --- No lingering. No curiosity. No questions. --- Outside, Night City smelled like rain, engine heat, and bad decisions. Better than sterile archive air. Better than old wood and uncertain histories. --- Ace climbed into the vehicle and shut the door. Kiro looked at her from the front passenger seat. "Done?" "Done." "Chair gone?" "Chair gone." "Nobody sat in it?" Ace stared at her. Kiro stared back. --- "Nobody sat in it," Ace said. "Good." --- Shammy settled into the rear seat beside Mai. For several seconds, all four simply sat there. --- Then Kiro exhaled. "At least this artifact wasn't depressing." --- Silence. --- The words landed differently now. Not at Arthur's Seat. Not during research. Not while the chair still occupied their lives. Now. After the handoff. After the sealed case had disappeared into a private archive. After the job was complete. --- Ace looked out the window. Night City moved around them in broken light. --- She thought of Site-13. A building full of ordinary names. Patel's final question. Miller and his coffee machine. The terrible softness of being remembered too late. --- Then she looked back toward the archive facility. The cursed chair was someone else's problem now. A strange old thing with a cruel reputation and a payment record attached. --- Ace snorted quietly. "Give it time." --- Kiro groaned. Shammy laughed. Mai's mouth curved, barely. --- The vehicle pulled away from the facility. The archive disappeared behind them. --- For the first time in days, nobody checked the rear corridor. Nobody watched a locked door. Nobody thought about whether a chair could be patient. --- The job was done. The money was real. The artifact was gone. --- And Rogue was waiting. --- ## Chapter 8 — Empty Ground Rogue did not ask whether the delivery had gone smoothly. That was how Ace knew she already had confirmation. --- Rogue sat in her booth at the Afterlife with one glass in front of her, one data shard beside it, and the expression of someone who had spent the last hour deciding whether the universe was amusing or simply badly organized. --- Ace slid into the booth first. Mai followed. Shammy settled beside her with the easy quiet of someone no longer carrying artifact pressure in the back of her skull. Kiro arrived last, still checking the payment record because apparently emotional closure required accounting. --- Rogue watched her. "The money cleared." Kiro did not look up. "I know." "Then why are you still looking at it?" "Because numbers that large deserve respect." --- Ace nodded. "She's been like this since Watson." "Understandable," Rogue said. --- That was probably the closest Rogue would ever come to sentiment. --- The booth settled. The noise of the Afterlife moved around them. Mercs talking too loudly. Fixers pretending not to listen. Glasses hitting tables. Music low enough to feel like pressure instead of sound. --- Night City breathing through old concrete and expensive secrets. --- It felt good. Not safe. Never safe. But familiar. --- After Scotland's old stone, after sealed archives and polite theft and an artifact nobody wanted to touch, the Afterlife felt almost honest. Danger here did not pretend to be furniture. --- Rogue looked at Ace. "No issues?" Ace considered lying for exactly zero seconds. "The chair is gone." "That wasn't the question." "It was the answer I cared about." --- Rogue's mouth twitched. Mai answered properly. "No exposure. No contact with the seat. No security escalation. No visible pursuit. Delivery accepted. Payment completed." "Collector satisfied?" "As far as we can tell." Kiro finally looked up. "He didn't talk to us directly." Rogue leaned back. "He rarely does." "That's creepy." "He's rich." "Those overlap too often." "They do." --- Shammy rested one elbow against the booth edge. "He wanted history." Rogue's eyes shifted to her. "That your read?" "Partly." A pause. "Not just ownership. Possession. The kind people mistake for understanding." --- Rogue absorbed that. Then glanced toward Mai. "Do I want to know what that means?" "No," Mai said. "Good." --- The answer satisfied everyone. --- For a little while, the job remained closed. Cleanly closed. The kind of closed that Night City rarely allowed. --- Artifact stolen. Artifact delivered. Payment received. No one injured. No one cursed. No one stupid enough to sit down. --- Kiro lifted one hand. "I still want that last part formally noted." Ace pointed at her. "Nobody sat in the chair." "Thank you." "Do you want a certificate?" "Maybe." --- Mai looked at her. "I am not making you a certificate." "You considered it." "No." "You considered rejecting it, which means the idea existed." Mai closed her eyes briefly. Ace smiled. Shammy laughed under her breath. --- Rogue watched them for a moment with the expression of a woman who had seen empires, corporations, cults, and mercenary teams ruin themselves for less than the price of one bad chair. Then she reached for the data shard beside her glass. --- The mood changed. Not dramatically. But enough. --- Ace noticed first. Mai noticed because Ace did. Kiro noticed because the shard existed. Shammy noticed because the booth's air tightened before anyone spoke. --- Rogue turned the shard between two fingers. "This came in while you were making the delivery." Ace did not like that sentence. "From the Collector?" "No." "Another job?" "No." --- Rogue placed the shard on the table. The motion was quiet. Too quiet. --- "This is about Site-13." --- The booth went still. --- Kiro's face changed first. Not fear. Not excitement. Something smaller. More careful. --- Mai said nothing. Ace looked at Rogue. Shammy's gaze lowered briefly, as if listening to a sound beneath the room. --- Rogue activated the shard. A satellite image appeared above the table. Wide desert. Harsh sunlight. Big Bend terrain. Empty ground. --- Ace stared at it. For a second, her mind refused the image. Not because she didn't understand it. Because she did. --- No building. No perimeter. No access road. No service structures. No broken foundations. No scar where something large and impossible had once sat. --- Just land. --- Mai leaned forward slightly. "Timestamp?" Rogue answered immediately. "This morning." Kiro whispered, "No." --- Rogue changed the image. Another angle. Same terrain. Empty. --- Another. Empty. --- A third. Older satellite pass. The building was there. Site-13. Low, brutal, administrative, impossible to mistake. --- Next image. Nothing. --- Kiro swallowed. "What about thermal residue?" "None." "Ground disturbance?" "None." "Corporate cleanup?" "No equipment signatures. No transport logs. No construction traffic. No demolition pattern." --- Mai's voice stayed level. "Foundation?" Rogue gave her a flat look. "Would you know?" Mai did not answer. Because the honest answer was no. --- That sat badly. With all of them. --- The Foundation was a dead language in their world now. A structure they had known. A structure that had shaped parts of them. A structure that no longer answered when called. --- Site-13 had not changed that. It had only reminded them that absence could still leave architecture behind. --- Except now even that was gone. --- Ace looked at the image. Empty ground. No walls. No lobby. No archive room. No final prompt. No Patel. No Miller. No coffee machine complaint. --- Nothing. --- "Maybe it was never there," Kiro said. Then immediately shook her head. "No. No, that's stupid. We were there." "We were there," Ace said. Firmly. Not loudly. Firmly. --- Kiro looked at her. Ace held her gaze. --- "We were there." --- That helped. Not enough. But enough. --- Mai studied the images. Her face gave away almost nothing. But Ace knew her. The stillness was not indifference. It was restraint. --- "Any other data?" Mai asked. Rogue shook her head. "Only this." "Source?" "One of mine." "Reliable?" "Alive because they're reliable." --- That answered that. --- Shammy finally spoke. "It left." Nobody corrected her. --- Because somehow that was the only sentence that fit. --- Not collapsed. Not demolished. Not erased. --- Left. --- Like a memory deciding it had been held long enough. --- Kiro stared at the empty ground. "But why after us?" No one answered. --- There were answers they could invent. The archive had completed some final function. The visitors had acknowledged the memory. The site had been waiting for witnesses. The building had never belonged fully to this place. The world had closed around it once its story was carried elsewhere. --- All of those were guesses. None of them were facts. --- And Mai, mercifully, did not pretend otherwise. --- "We don't know." --- Kiro's expression tightened. She clearly hated that. Ace did too. --- Rogue deactivated the image. The booth returned to ordinary Afterlife shadow. For a moment, the absence of the image felt louder than its presence. --- Rogue looked at them. "You going back?" "No," Ace said. Immediate. Clean. --- Kiro turned to her. Ace shook her head. "There is nothing to go back to." --- The words were harsh. But not wrong. --- Mai nodded once. "Agreed." Shammy's gaze remained soft. "We already took what it wanted to leave." --- Kiro looked at her. "What did it leave?" Shammy answered without ornament. "Names." --- That ended the discussion. --- Not because it solved anything. Because it was true enough to stand. --- Rogue picked up her glass. "So Site-13 disappears, the chair is gone, and the Collector is satisfied." Ace leaned back. "That's the clean version?" "That's the version that gets written down." Kiro muttered, "I hate paperwork reality." Mai looked at her. "Paperwork reality pays." Kiro glanced at the cleared compensation record. Then sighed. "I hate that too." --- The booth loosened again. Slowly. Carefully. --- Not all the way. Some things did not loosen completely. --- Site-13 remained in the room for a while. Not as grief this time. Not exactly. More like an old echo. A final unanswered knock from a door that no longer existed. --- Eventually Ace reached across the table and tapped the edge of Kiro's agent. The netrunner looked at her. --- "Archive the names." Kiro blinked. Then nodded. "I already did." "Good." "Multiple copies." "Better." "Encrypted." "Obviously." --- Ace smiled faintly. "Patel would approve." Kiro looked down. For a second, her face became younger. Then steadier. --- "Yeah." A small breath. "I think she would." --- Rogue watched that exchange and said nothing. That was one of her better qualities. --- The Afterlife continued around them. No one else knew that a building in Texas had vanished. No one else knew that a cursed chair had crossed an ocean, sat in Watson for less than an hour, and disappeared into a private archive. No one else knew that four ordinary Site-13 names were now stored in Kiro's protected memory stack like contraband humanity. --- Night City did not care. --- That was fine. They did. --- Ace finally stood. "Come on." Kiro looked up. "Where?" "Home." --- Mai rose without question. Shammy followed. Kiro hesitated only long enough to close the payment record one final time. Rogue noticed. "Still real." Kiro pointed at her. "I respect large numbers." --- Rogue almost smiled. Almost. --- As they left the booth, Ace glanced back once. Rogue was still there. Of course she was. Glass in hand. Eyes sharp. Surrounded by ghosts that had never needed buildings. --- Ace gave her a small nod. Rogue returned it. --- Then the Triad and Kiro stepped back into the noise of the Afterlife. --- The chair was gone. Site-13 was gone. The money was real. The names remained. --- For Night City, that almost counted as a clean ending.