Cyberpunk Patriarch

David loved watching Dark Mewtwo and craved the thrill of violent, high-octane scenes. But experiencing those horrors in real life was an entirely different matter.

Mewtwo provided a sense of detachment—no matter how immersive, it was always fiction. But reality offered no such protection. The blood and carnage in front of him now were raw and inescapable.

Arthur glanced back at David, his expression unimpressed. "This is all it takes for you to freeze up? And you call yourself a fan of Dark Mewtwo? If you're this weak, kid, you won't last long in Night City. Follow me!"

Without waiting for a response, Arthur strode deeper into the hospital, leaving David no choice but to stumble after him.

David wiped his mouth, still clutching the pistol Arthur had given him. The taste of bile lingered on his tongue, but he pushed forward, determined not to fall behind.

Arthur, moving with confidence, pulled up his personal link and dialed a contact. Despite being away from Night City for years, he still had resources—people who had survived the city's harshness, hiding in the shadows and working smart, not loud.

Arthur's contact was one such individual.

"Hey, T-Bug," he greeted, a grin creeping onto his face.

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Arthur? Thought you'd gone psycho and died in some ditch. What brings you back to this cesspool?"

"Please, the only one who can kill me is me. I need your help. Check the records at Night City Rehabilitation Center. Someone named Gloria was admitted this afternoon. Car accident."

"Gloria? Didn't think you were the type to risk your neck for a pretty face."

"Save the poetry, Bug. Just do your thing."

"Fine, fine. But you owe me for this. Also, don't mock literature—it's the soul of humanity. Without it, you're just another cyberpsycho waiting to happen."

Arthur chuckled. "Thanks for the lecture. Send me the info."

Moments later, his terminal buzzed with a notification. Arthur skimmed through the data, a bitter smile forming on his lips. "Figures. It's just as messy as I thought."

He adjusted his course, heading toward the hospital's basement. The further they went, the more bodies littered the halls. Blood and viscera painted the walls, and a metallic stench filled the air. David followed closely, his wide eyes darting nervously.

Still shaken, David gripped his gun too tightly and began firing erratically, shouting incoherently. Most of his shots hit nothing but walls, though Arthur had to dodge a few near misses.

"Kid, you're going to kill me before the NCPD does!" Arthur snapped, smacking David hard across the face.

The slap jolted David back to his senses. He glared at Arthur, muttering, "You're the one acting like a cyberpsycho."

Arthur didn't respond, instead reloading his shotgun and marching forward. He stepped over more bodies, taking out anyone who got in his way with brutal efficiency.

Despite the chaos, Night City outside remained indifferent. Gunshots and death were so common that the NCPD didn't bother responding to every incident. Especially not here—everyone knew the Night City Rehabilitation Center was a front for scavenger operations. Even the cops turned a blind eye to its horrors.

Arthur soon reached the door to the basement. He stopped and looked at David. "Stay here. No one's coming out of this place alive, but what's inside isn't for kids."

"I'm coming with you! I need to save my mom!" David argued, his voice cracking.

Arthur shook his head. "You're not ready. What's down there will mess with your head. Just wait."

Before David could protest, Arthur stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The scene inside was worse than anything David could have imagined. Blood pooled on the floor, mixing with discarded body parts and surgical tools. Limbs hung from chains, and mutilated bodies lined the walls. The air was thick with the stench of decay, punctuated by muffled cries of pain.

Arthur grimaced but didn't falter. He moved quickly, scanning the room for Gloria. This wasn't his first time seeing a scavenger den, but the sight still churned his stomach.

The people here weren't soldiers or combatants—they were victims. The scavengers didn't just take lives; they harvested humanity itself. It was this grotesque reality that put them at the very bottom of Night City's social ladder. Even the homeless spat on scavengers.

Arthur spotted Gloria in a far corner, strapped to a chair and hooked up to various machines. Her red hair was matted with blood, and her body was pale, but she was alive.

Arthur approached her, his movements deliberate. He carefully disconnected her from the machines, making sure not to trigger any alarms.

"Hang on, Gloria," he muttered. "I've got you."

As he lifted her into his arms, he heard footsteps approaching from behind. Arthur turned, raising his shotgun just in time to blast a scavenger trying to ambush him.

He moved quickly now, dodging debris and taking out anyone in his path. The scavengers weren't trained fighters—they relied on numbers and desperation, and Arthur exploited their weaknesses mercilessly.

He emerged from the basement carrying Gloria, his shotgun still smoking. David, waiting nervously by the door, jumped when he saw them.

"Is she—"

"She's alive," Arthur cut him off. "Now let's get out of here."

The sound of sirens grew louder as they made their way back to the car. David's hands trembled, but he managed to open the car door while Arthur gently placed Gloria inside.

Delamain's voice greeted them calmly. "Welcome back, Mr. Arthur. Shall we proceed to the designated location?"

"Yeah," Arthur replied, lighting a cigarette. "Get us out of here."

As the car sped through the neon-lit streets, David stared at his unconscious mother, his chest tight with guilt and relief.

Arthur exhaled a plume of smoke, his cybernetic eyes glinting in the dim light. "Kid, you've got a lot to learn about this city. People here don't care about your sob story. You either toughen up, or you get eaten alive."

David didn't respond. His mind replayed the horrors he'd witnessed—the blood, the screams, the bodies. He felt a mix of anger and determination boiling inside him.

"I'll get stronger," he muttered, more to himself than to Arthur.

Arthur smirked, leaning back in his seat. "Good. Just don't lose your humanity along the way. That's how you end up a cyberpsycho."

David clenched his fists, staring out at the endless sprawl of Night City. He made a silent vow: no matter what it took, he would survive—and he would make this city pay for what it had done.