Cyberpunk Patriarch

"Mr. Arthur, the so-called 'wild dog of Night City,' is far more than just a street rogue," Delamain remarked dryly.

Arthur smirked, waving the AI driver off. "The name means nothing. I'm no god; just someone a little too good at surviving."

David, carrying Arthur's bag, stared at him intently, as if trying to decipher the enigma standing before him. Despite his father's seemingly unassuming demeanor, there was something unsettling about how calm and confident he was.

Arthur's memories painted a picture of a cyberpunk whose violent methods and mission success rate had earned notoriety. Yet, as Arthur knew all too well, fame in Night City was fleeting. Cyberpunks lived fast and died young, most meeting grisly ends in dark alleys or sewers. Without Arthur's intervention, the original owner of his body would have suffered the same fate.

As they reached Victor's clinic, Arthur chose not to go through Misty's shop—she had long since closed for the night. Instead, he approached the locked wire mesh door at the side. A quick squeeze bent the lock out of shape, and he tossed it aside before stepping through.

"Wow..." David's eyes sparkled with curiosity, the dim light reflecting in them like a thousand-watt bulb.

Arthur glanced at him and sighed. "Over 70% of my body is cybernetic. That's why I developed cyberpsychosis. It's the price you pay for living as a cyberpunk."

David looked confused, so Arthur decided it was time for a reality check. As they walked inside, Arthur explained, his tone measured but firm.

"Cyberpunks live by a simple cycle: take jobs, earn money, upgrade your body. The better your mods, the more dangerous jobs you can take, and the cycle repeats."

He gestured at himself. "But nothing stays positive forever. Eventually, the cycle breaks. My fingers started trembling; I couldn't control my emotions. The meds stopped working. Then comes the crash—when your body and mind can't handle it anymore, you lose everything and become a cyberpsycho."

David's expression shifted, his excitement giving way to unease. Arthur didn't sugarcoat the truth, and it hit harder than David had expected.

By the time Arthur finished, they had reached Victor's clinic. The door was ajar, and Arthur pushed aside the curtain, stepping inside. The room was filled with the noise of cheers, grunts, and the thud of fists hitting flesh.

Victor was hunched over a small screen, engrossed in an underground boxing match. He didn't even glance up.

"People who visit clinics late at night usually aren't the best sort," Victor said without turning around, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Arthur chuckled. "Fair point. I'm not a saint. I'm here to exploit you."

Victor froze at the familiar voice. He turned sharply, his eyes widening. For a moment, raw emotion crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile.

"Arthur?" Victor stepped closer, his grin spreading. "Welcome back to Night City, my friend! I thought you'd died out there. But here you are, alive and looking... stable. Found a cure, I take it?"

Arthur smirked and gestured to Gloria, still unconscious in his arms. "Not quite. But I'm here now. This is my wife, Gloria, and that awkward kid over there is my son, David. She needs your help."

Victor's smile faltered as he glanced at Gloria. He quickly shifted into professional mode, grabbing his tools. Connecting a wire to Gloria's brain-computer interface, he scanned her vitals and medical history.

"Scavenger work?" he asked, not looking up.

Arthur nodded. Scavenger activity left telltale signs, and Victor's experience made it easy to identify.

As Victor worked, Arthur filled him in. "I've been chasing a cure for years. I had no idea Gloria's life here was so rough. She couldn't even afford basic Trauma Team coverage. This afternoon, she got into a car accident. If it weren't for David, she'd still be at that mental rehab center."

Arthur shot David a glare, thumping the boy lightly on the head. David yelped and rubbed his forehead, clearly guilty but too scared to protest.

Victor shook his head, a mix of guilt and regret on his face. "Arthur, it's not just you. Gloria cut contact with me after you left. She didn't want David exposed to... this life. I didn't know things had gotten this bad."

Arthur placed a reassuring hand on Victor's shoulder. "I know. It's not on you. This city grinds everyone down."

Victor sighed, turning his attention back to Gloria. He scanned her vitals again, then leaned back.

"Two or three broken ribs, lung damage—probably needs a replacement. Mild concussion, some fractured bones. Nothing critical, but she'll need a lot of work."

Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've got savings. Use them to get her the best civilian-grade parts available—top-notch, no second-hand junk."

Victor nodded. "You've got it. I'll prioritize quality."

---

As Victor worked, Arthur leaned against the wall, watching him with a rare sense of calm. David stood nearby, shifting awkwardly.

"So, this is what it's like?" David asked quietly.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "What's what like?"

"Being a cyberpunk. Living on the edge, risking everything for... this."

Arthur's expression hardened. "It's not glamorous, David. People romanticize it, but cyberpunks are just disposable tools for those with power. They chew us up and spit us out when we're no longer useful."

David hesitated, his gaze dropping. "Then why do it?"

Arthur sighed. "Because sometimes, it's the only choice. But you're different. You don't have to walk this path. You can be better."

David didn't respond, but Arthur saw a flicker of determination in his eyes.

---

Victor finished his initial work on Gloria and leaned back in his chair. "She's stable for now. I'll need a few days to complete everything."

Arthur nodded. "Thanks, Vic. I owe you one."

Victor smirked. "You owe me more than one, but who's counting?"

As they prepared to leave, Arthur glanced at David. The boy had been quiet, processing everything he'd seen and heard.

"Come on, kid," Arthur said, ruffling his hair. "Let's get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be another long day."

David followed, a mix of admiration and wariness in his eyes as he looked at the father he was just beginning to understand.

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