Cyberpunk Patriarch

Gloria's gaze shifted to the man sitting on the opposite side of the worn sofa. Her eyes narrowed, disbelief written across her face. There was no mistaking him—Arthur. That familiar, devil-may-care smile, the cigarette perched at the corner of his mouth, and the mischief glinting in his eyes were exactly as she remembered. Time hadn't changed him one bit.

The black trench coat he wore was filthy, as though it hadn't seen a wash in years, yet it emitted no discernible odor. He was unmistakably her husband—the man who had vanished from Night City years ago and was rumored to have died in a gutter somewhere.

"Arthur, you b*****d! How dare you come back!" Gloria shouted, her voice trembling with anger.

Without waiting for an answer, she leapt at him and punched him square in the face. Arthur, however, caught her in a firm embrace, holding her tightly.

"Settle down," he murmured, his voice calm. Her fists, small and furious, rained down on his chest, but Arthur barely flinched.

As a cyberpunk, his body was armed to the teeth—his steel-reinforced skin rendered him nearly impervious to such assaults. Gloria's punches were more of an emotional release than any real attempt to hurt him.

Finally, when her fist aimed for his face again, Arthur tilted his head and planted a kiss squarely on her lips.

Across the room, Victor, their mutual acquaintance and a skilled ripperdoc, sighed and poured himself another whiskey. He looked on in exasperation.

"Unbelievable," Victor muttered under his breath. "You save someone's life, and the first thing they do is shove their love life in your face."

Victor drained his glass and muttered, "What a joke," before reaching for another pour.

Meanwhile, Gloria, blushing furiously, found herself pinned in Arthur's embrace. Her struggles lessened, and she eventually surrendered to the kiss. When Arthur finally let her go, she buried her face in his chest, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of her teenage son, David, who sat nearby, slack-jawed.

David couldn't believe what he was seeing. His strict and no-nonsense mother—the very embodiment of discipline—had crumbled so easily in front of this man. Was this really the same woman who had raised him with an iron will?

Arthur smirked, running a hand through Gloria's hair. "Had enough of a tantrum?"

Gloria nodded silently, her fiery demeanor momentarily extinguished. Arthur carried her in his arms, then turned to Victor. "Put the bill on my account. If it goes over, just let me know. Money's tight, but I'll figure it out."

Victor waved him off dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, just get out of here before I puke."

Arthur carried Gloria out of the clinic, with David trailing behind. As they stepped into the neon-lit streets of Night City, Arthur spoke softly to her.

"I know it's been hard all these years. But I'm back now, Gloria. I promise, things will be different."

Gloria buried her face deeper into his chest. "Hmph! Don't think I'm forgiving you that easily, you b*****d."

Arthur chuckled. "Come on, I saved your life. Doesn't that earn me a little goodwill? You fell for me once; I'm pretty sure you can do it again."

Gloria's cheeks flushed. "Shut up!"

Arthur's smirk widened. "That's more like it."

David, walking a few steps behind, couldn't believe his ears. Was this really how his father had won over his mother years ago? The legendary stories he'd heard growing up didn't include moments like this.

---

The following morning, the familiar sound of Stanley's voice boomed from the TV.

"Good morning, Night City! It's your old buddy Stanley here to kick off another crazy day in the city we all love. I love this place just like you love your mama…"

Gloria stirred awake, groaning at the noise. She glanced at the clock, realizing she was running late. Leaping out of bed, she hastily began dressing for work. Arthur appeared behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. In one hand, he held a pneumatic syringe, which he gently pressed against her abdomen.

"Relax. I already took care of things," Arthur murmured. "Your prosthetics were just replaced. You need time to adjust."

Gloria pulled away, glaring at him. "And what if I don't go to work? Are you going to support me?"

Arthur shrugged casually. "Of course. I've got this. You're not fit to work yourself to death, Gloria. Let me handle things."

Gloria huffed in frustration but didn't argue. She followed him out to the kitchen, where she found David lounging at the table instead of heading to school.

"David! Why aren't you in class?" she snapped.

"Dad said I could stay home," David replied smugly, flashing his father a grin.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at his son. "Really? Throwing me under the bus already?"

David shrugged, clearly enjoying the moment. Gloria, however, wasn't amused. Her glare turned to Arthur.

"Arthur, what's this about?"

Arthur leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "Listen, there's a lot going on right now. Let the kid take a break. He's been through enough."

Gloria hesitated, then sighed. "Fine."

Emboldened, David grinned. "Dad said he's taking me to Afterlife Bar later!"

Gloria froze, her expression shifting to one of dangerous calm. "Oh? Is that so?"

She stepped on Arthur's foot, grinding her heel into it mercilessly. Arthur winced but held back a scream.

"All right, all right! I didn't mean it!" Arthur finally yelped.

Satisfied, Gloria released him and returned to her seat. "Honestly, Arthur. You're too old for this nonsense."

Arthur smirked despite the pain. "Old? Who's old? You look the same as the day we met."

Gloria blushed, her sharp retort dying on her lips. Arthur leaned forward, his tone softening. "I mean it. After all these years, you're still the same beautiful woman I fell for."

Gloria's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and she focused intently on her plate, pretending not to hear. David, watching the interaction, could only shake his head. His parents were unlike any couple he'd ever seen.

---

Life in Night City was unpredictable, but one thing was clear—Arthur's return had thrown Gloria and David's world into chaos. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was an undeniable sense of family, albeit unconventional. And in a city like this, perhaps that was the best they could hope for.

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