Cyberpunk Patriarch

Arthur felt his stomach churn.

Good lord… these people are really messed up.

He had seen some twisted things in Night City, but this? Eating that?

It was 2076, for crying out loud. How were there still cannibals in the world?

This city never ceased to amaze him.

Tom led him through a door, and Arthur found himself in front of a boxing ring where two people were brutally beating each other to a pulp.

The scene was gruesome—a mess of flesh and blood, with both fighters sporting fresh and old wounds across their faces and bodies.

Even from a distance, Arthur could smell the overwhelming stench of hormones leaking from them.

He had no idea how much testosterone they had injected into themselves, but judging by the atmosphere in the room, it was enough to make a gorilla blush.

For the first time, he regretted not wearing a mask before coming here.

The Animal Gang was no joke when it came to hormone overload.

They were all men—literally. Their male hormone levels were so high that if you ever thought you spotted a woman among them, you'd better double-check before making a move.

Because in their eyes, you might be the woman.

Arthur shuddered at the thought.

If he wasn't careful, his "pretty face" might make him a target.

Up in the ring, the two brawlers kept trading vicious blows, each punch landing with a sickening crack.

The intensity of the fight made Arthur feel a phantom ache in his own jaw.

Then—pop!

A tooth flew straight to his feet.

Arthur scratched the back of his head, sighing. This city is insane.

The fight ended moments later when one of the combatants collapsed face-first onto the mat.

The winner—a massive brute whose arms were as thick as Arthur's thighs—grinned and wiped the sweat and blood from their face before stepping off the ring.

Then, their eyes landed on Arthur.

Arthur felt a slight tension in the air, but the gang boss just turned to Tom, waiting for an explanation.

Tom wasted no time.

"Boss, this guy is strong," he said quickly. "He mentioned wanting to work with the Animal Gang. I figured he wasn't messing around, so I brought him in!"

The leader of the Animal Gang nodded, then walked over to a nearby sofa and grabbed a massive water bottle.

Without hesitation, they drank the entire thing in one go—three liters gone in seconds.

Arthur watched in disbelief.

These people weren't human.

After finishing the drink, the boss gestured toward a single-seater sofa across from them.

"Sit."

Arthur sat down without hesitation, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

The boss leaned back, studying him.

"Arthur Martinez," they finally said. "An antique from Night City. Rumors say you've turned into a cyberpsycho. But looking at you now, you seem more like a ghost."

Arthur smirked. So they already knew who he was.

Which meant they had done their research beforehand.

But that was strange.

The Animal Gang wasn't known for being careful. They were reckless, impulsive, and didn't waste time gathering intel.

So why would they suddenly care about who he was?

Arthur's eyes narrowed.

This wasn't the Animal Gang's doing.

This had to be the work of the network surveillance company.

After all, their true target was Poseidon—or rather, the rogue AI lurking behind the scenes.

Arthur exhaled a puff of smoke and leaned forward.

"Ghost? Please. I'm very much alive," he said. "Since you know who I am, you probably already know what I want."

The boss remained silent, listening.

"I'm starting a legit business," Arthur continued. "If the Animal Gang is willing to provide security—without causing trouble—I'll make sure you all get a cut."

Business in Night City was simple: More people, more money.

Trying to hog everything would only put a target on his back.

Arthur wasn't stupid enough to think he could take on all of Night City by himself.

Unless, of course, he suddenly gained superpowers like a magnetic fruit or a thunder fruit.

Now that would be fun.

The boss chuckled.

"How about we change the deal?" they said. "There's someone who wants to talk to you. Seems pretty interested in an old-school cyberpunk like yourself."

Arthur sighed, already tired of where this was going.

He slouched back into the sofa, looking exhausted.

"Look, I don't give a damn about your network surveillance company or whatever corporate bullshit you've got going on," Arthur said bluntly.

"I'm not getting involved."

The real person in control here wasn't the Animal Gang boss.

It was the corporate lackey standing behind them.

Arthur had seen this game before.

The network surveillance company wanted to use him as a tool—throw him into some dangerous mess, let him deal with the Voodoo Boys, then dispose of him afterward.

Classic corpo tactics.

The Animal Gang boss was caught off guard for a moment, then suddenly clapped their hands.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

They grinned.

"Not bad. That's the kind of attitude I like!"

Their amusement was genuine, but Arthur wasn't fooled.

"You know," the boss continued, "there's something about old-school cyberpunks like you that makes things… interesting."

Arthur rubbed his temples. "Oh, great. Here we go."

The boss leaned forward, their tone shifting.

"Listen, Arthur. I don't know where you're getting your intel, but you should already understand that rogue AIs aren't like us."

Arthur frowned but said nothing.

"The wannabe hackers think they can make deals with them," the boss continued. "But the truth is… AIs don't care. They won't accept them."

Arthur crossed his arms.

"And?"

The boss sighed, rubbing their temples.

"If these idiots were just throwing their own lives away, I wouldn't give a damn," they said. "Hackers fry their brains every day, anyway."

"But their actions are punching holes in the Blackwall—and that? That makes us uneasy."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"So you want me to fix your problem?"

The boss smirked.

"Something like that."

Arthur groaned, rubbing his face.

Of course this was happening.

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