Cyberpunk Patriarch

"By the way, that thing…" Gloria suddenly remembered something, her face clouding with worry.

She had recently scavenged a prosthetic body from a cyberpsycho and, despite her street smarts, couldn't shake the anxiety surrounding it. Jumping up from her seat, she began searching frantically for her yellow coat.

Arthur, sitting comfortably, smirked as he leaned back. "Relax. I've already taken care of that Sandevistan you were worried about. Honestly, Mann's still using junk like this? Same as ever, not a shred of caution in him."

Arthur's tone carried a strange mixture of amusement and disdain. "This Sandevistan isn't the usual mass-produced model you'd find on the streets. It's experimental—something that escaped from a corporate lab."

Gloria froze mid-step, her coat half-on, and stared at him. Arthur continued, his voice steady.

"These corporations, they've got a whole system for their 'testing.' They'll hire legal test subjects, sure, but that pool's small—mostly desperate folks, the old, the sick, or the broke. So, they use 'other means' to get what they need."

Arthur paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "When a lab subject goes cyberpsycho and escapes, the company doesn't waste the opportunity. Word spreads in mercenary circles that a 'powerful prototype' is up for grabs. Then, scavengers rush in, fighting tooth and nail for it. It's all staged—when the users die from unstable implants, the companies swoop back in to reclaim the tech."

David, seated nearby, couldn't help but shiver. Watching his father's unsettling smile, he ducked his head, unwilling to draw attention. Arthur, with his cybernetics and eerily calm demeanor, exuded an unshakable authority that left David uneasy.

Gloria, however, exhaled deeply, a sense of relief washing over her. "I forgot—you're here now." Her lips curled into a small, confident smirk. "When the time comes, you'll teach Mann a lesson, right?"

Arthur's smile softened. "Of course."

Gloria returned to her seat, though her eyes still lingered on him, filled with quiet concern. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong with your body? After all, you've been through…"

Arthur waved off her worry. "Ever since I 'died,' I haven't had any issues. The prosthetics are stable—no rejection, no glitches. Honestly, I feel better than ever. Even Adam Smasher wouldn't stand a chance against me now."

His voice was steady, but the weight behind his words was evident. Gloria looked at him, her expression a mix of trust and skepticism. Arthur gave her a reassuring smile.

"Take it easy for now, Gloria. Rest up. Soon, we'll get out of this dump and into a real home. This place isn't fit for anyone."

Arthur bit into a piece of "beef bread," a staple of Night City's synthetic food industry. The taste was as artificial as its origins, but the psychological trick of enhanced aromas made it seem bearable.

Still, he couldn't shake the thought of real food. "If I remember correctly, the Voodoo Boys might still have access to real chickens. I'll have to snag one someday," he mused aloud.

---

As Arthur finished his meal, he stood and grabbed a small box containing the Sandevistan. "I've gotta deliver this to Mann."

Before he could leave, David jumped up, his hand shooting into the air. "I want to go too!" he exclaimed, his eagerness spilling over.

Arthur immediately rolled his eyes, while Gloria slammed her palm on the table, making the dishes rattle. "Stay home!" she barked. "Review your homework. If you don't behave, your father will give you a complete childhood."

At that, she reached for Arthur's belt, lifting it slightly as if to emphasize her point. David shrank back, his enthusiasm vanishing in an instant.

Arthur, meanwhile, was lost in thought. A childhood with a belt… was this his opportunity to pass down his own upbringing? But he quickly dismissed the idea, amused at how easily David folded under Gloria's glare.

Arthur grabbed his pistol, secured the Sandevistan box, and prepared to leave. Gloria, however, stopped him by fussing over his clothes, straightening his collar like a dutiful wife.

Arthur's heart fluttered for a moment, a rare softness breaking through his tough exterior. "One day, I'll buy us a house big enough to properly… uh… study together," he murmured with a sly smile. Gloria, too busy fixing his coat, didn't catch his implication.

---

After a brief exchange with a neighbor from Sixth Street, Arthur "borrowed" a car—though the negotiation was less than civil. In Night City, such encounters were just another part of life.

As he drove through Santo Domingo, his mind wandered to Mann. The man was no stranger to Arthur; in fact, Arthur had introduced him to the cyberpunk trade years ago. Despite their history, Mann's recklessness was legendary.

Suddenly, Arthur's phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. The caller ID displayed a familiar face. Arthur smiled as he answered.

"Arthur Scott. I was wondering when you'd call me," he said, his tone laced with humor.

"Don't get cocky, Scott," the voice on the other end replied. "I've got a job for you—a big one."

Arthur's smile widened. "I'm listening."

---

Back at home, David watched his father's car disappear down the street. Gloria, still at the table, leaned back with a sigh.

"Your dad… he's something else, isn't he?" she muttered, half to herself.

David nodded, still processing everything. Arthur's return had upended their lives, but for the first time in years, David felt like they were a complete family—chaotic, unpredictable, but undeniably whole.

For a moment, he wondered what his "complete childhood" might actually look like. Then he decided he didn't want to find out.

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