Cyberpunk Patriarch

"Hey, sailor, you don't seem too interested in the work I do here. What a bunch of blind fools!"

Arthur had just left Mann's base and was driving along the viaduct when he received a call from the old captain.

Clearly, Arthur hadn't been active in Night City for quite some time. Nobody trusted an old-school cyberpunk relic—a walking antique that should have been buried ages ago.

"Well," Arthur said, "I get it. This sort of thing takes time. Don't worry about me. Worst case, you can send me to Aunt Rogge."

The captain chuckled. "You know, if the Queen herself heard you calling her aunt, she'd probably throw you out of her palace. With her boots."

Arthur smirked. "Come on, with her age, I'm already being generous. Honestly, I should probably call her Grandma."

"Alright, alright. Look, I don't have any work for you right now, but there's someone who's very interested in you—a righteous partner of sorts. I've given her your contact info. Expect a call soon."

Arthur hung up, scratching his chin thoughtfully. Before he could process the conversation, his phone rang again.

Answering, he heard a confident female voice on the other end.

"Hey, Arthur. I'm Regina Jones. I heard you're looking for work, and I happen to be one of the people hiring."

The name immediately rang a bell. Of course. "Partner of justice" indeed—wasn't this the fixer from the Watson District?

"If you don't mind working with an old-timer like me, I'd be happy to help," Arthur replied.

"Don't sell yourself short," Regina said. "Sometimes, experience is what gets the job done right."

Arthur chuckled. It had been a long time since anyone said anything pleasant to him in Night City. This city, with its chaos and neon glow, wasn't exactly known for kindness.

In Night City, you could walk past a random stranger on the street and they'd curse your entire bloodline without hesitation. If you dared talk back, they'd probably pick a fight right then and there.

Flattery? Civility? Forget it. The city's motto seemed to be: "Let chaos reign."

"If you were here right now," Arthur said with a grin, "I'd give you a hug for saying that. But let's cut to the chase—got any work for me? I could really use a new gig. To be honest, starting fresh isn't cheap, and I'm running low on funds."

Arthur's finances were in bad shape. Renting a factory in Night City—a city where land was more precious than oxygen—was almost impossible. Sure, he could move to Taipingzhou, where rent was cheaper, but that was out of the question. The place was crawling with zealots dreaming of wiping out humanity and playing god.

Regina hesitated. Arthur wasn't exactly what she'd expected. Most mercs followed a predictable script, but Arthur? He was on his own wavelength. Still, his honesty was refreshing.

"Have you heard of cyberpsychosis?" Regina asked.

"I've heard of it," Arthur replied casually.

"Oh? How much do you know?"

"No one knows cyberpsychosis better than me," he said confidently.

"…Really?"

Arthur pulled his car to the side of the road and pretended to play an invisible accordion with both hands. Too bad Regina wasn't there in person—she probably would've given him a standing ovation for his theatrics.

"Arthur, do you actually know that much about cyberpsychosis?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Let's just say I did some research back in the day. On myself."

"…On yourself?"

The line went quiet for a moment. The air between them turned awkward.

After a pause, Regina laughed. "Arthur, you're quite the character."

He grinned but didn't elaborate. Regina quickly moved on to the reason she'd called.

"Alright, let's get to business. Recently, someone spotted a disheveled homeless man wandering the North District of Watson. He seemed dazed, like someone who'd just been hit with a dozen electric shocks. At first, we thought he might've overdosed on something like Shining. But then he turned violent—beat a good Samaritan's head into pulp."

Arthur grimaced.

"Since he's clearly one of your, uh, 'patients,' I thought this job would be a good fit for you. Bring him in alive if you can, even if you have to incapacitate him."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Alive, huh? You're giving me a lot of faith here. People like him usually end up swimming in the city's sewage pits, courtesy of some trigger-happy punk."

"Exactly. But I'm not interested in that. I want him alive."

Arthur sighed but nodded. "Alright. I'll do my best to keep this poor soul intact. I'll be in touch."

Hanging up, he started his car and headed for Watson's North District.

Watson wasn't exactly the jewel of Night City, and the North District was even worse.

Once upon a time, this area had been the city's crown jewel. Nightclubs, towering skyscrapers, and world-class medical centers had thrived here. But a financial meltdown turned the district into a wasteland of poverty and decay.

Factories and industrial sites now dominated the skyline, spewing exhaust that tainted the air. Breathing here felt like trading years off your life for every minute you stayed.

Arthur couldn't help but smirk bitterly. Watson North wasn't just a bad place; it was the worst. Even Taipingzhou, with its extremists, had nothing on this crumbling hellhole.

Not that the mayor of Night City cared. His solution to crime was genius in its simplicity: if you can't fix the problem, just push it somewhere else.

The crime rate was like an old man's blood pressure—dangerously high and climbing. But instead of solving the root cause, the city just shuffled the problem around, pretending it didn't exist.

Arthur maneuvered through the narrow streets of Watson North, his car rumbling past dilapidated buildings and rundown factories. The air was thick with smog, and the stench of industrial waste clung to everything.

"Guess it's time to find our little mad dog," Arthur muttered.

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