Cyberpunk Patriarch

Arthur smiled, pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and offered one to the woman in front of him. She was a member of the Mox Gang, standing there with a nail-studded baseball bat slung over her shoulder, exuding an air of aggression.

While she had the demeanor of a street enforcer, Arthur had to admit she seemed far cleaner than most people wandering around Night City.

"So, what's your deal?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Arthur shrugged, taking back the cigarette when she didn't accept it. No sense in wasting it—it cost money, after all. He took a long drag, letting the smoke curl out lazily before replying.

"It's nothing, really. You might not believe me, but I just had a bit of an... intense conversation with a fellow patient over in Watson's North District. Let's just say it got so wild that half a block blew up during the chat."

The Mox member tightened her grip on her bat, her stance growing more defensive. She was clearly preparing for the worst.

Arthur smirked and continued, unfazed. "Relax. I had to step in to calm him down. You wouldn't believe what I found on him—a Mewtwo recorder. Managed to copy all the data off it, too. Thing is, this kind of tech needs a real expert to handle it. That's why I'm here at the Ritz, looking for Judy."

The mention of Judy's name tugged at Arthur's heartstrings in an odd way. In the game, she was someone unattainable—a character you couldn't "straighten" no matter how hard you tried. But now that Arthur was living in reality, he wondered if things could be different.

The Mox member relaxed slightly, her suspicion easing. "If you're not here to cause trouble, then we're cool," she said. "The Ritz isn't exactly equipped to deal with the kind of chaos you're talking about."

Arthur chuckled. "I figured as much. I'm not here to make anyone's life harder. Just need Judy's help to edit the Mewtwo data."

The woman's lips curled into a grin. "Fair enough. What's your name, handsome uncle?"

"Arthur," he replied, nodding confidently. After a moment's pause, he scratched the back of his head. "By the way, is Susie still the boss around here? If she is, let her know it's me. We go way back."

The Mox member raised an eyebrow at his mention of Susie. "You know that b*****d? Huh, well, if that's the case, there shouldn't be a problem. Name's Rita."

Rita's cybernetic eyes flashed yellow as she sent a message through her neural interface. Arthur stood silently, puffing on his cigarette. Violence might solve a lot of problems in Night City, but Arthur had no interest in throwing hands today—especially not after dealing with his fellow patient earlier.

After a few moments, Rita's eyes dimmed, and she let out a low whistle. "Well, well. I can't believe it. Susie actually sounded gentle when she talked about you. Never thought I'd hear her like that."

Arthur coughed awkwardly. "Misunderstanding, I swear! I'm not involved with her or anything like that. Can I just go in now?"

Rita chuckled, gesturing toward the entrance. "Come on, I'll take you to Judy. She's the best Mewtwo editor around. You've come to the right place."

Arthur followed Rita into the Ritz Bar. The neon lights inside flickered, casting dim, colorful hues across the room. The atmosphere was intentionally subdued, perfect for the kind of private "activities" this place was known for.

On the surface, the Ritz Bar was a Mewtwo Experience Club, offering high-end brain-dance sessions for its patrons. But it didn't take a genius to figure out what went on behind the scenes. After indulging in Mewtwo sessions, customers often found themselves too "excited" to go home alone. That's where the ladies came in, cooling down their overheated clients—for the right price, of course.

Rita led Arthur through a series of narrow, twisting hallways until they reached the basement. The space was cluttered with storage crates, evidence of the bar's thriving business. Arthur felt slightly disoriented from all the turns, but he followed Rita without complaint.

Finally, they arrived at Judy's studio. The room was dimly lit—typical for Night City. A high-end computer hummed softly on the desk, its screen flickering with streams of data. Judy was leaning back in her chair, her head tilted upward in boredom. She barely looked up as they entered.

Arthur glanced around, his mouth twitching into a slight frown. Why did everyone in Night City insist on working in such dark, dreary environments? It seemed like no one ever bothered to turn on a light unless absolutely necessary. Maybe it was a side effect of cybernetic eye enhancements.

"Judy," Rita called out, "this is Arthur. Susie must've told you about him."

Judy let out a frustrated groan, her tone dripping with the weariness of an overworked employee. "Yeah, yeah. That b*****d's always piling more work on me, like I've got nothing better to do down here. One of these days, I swear I'll blow her sky-high."

Arthur smirked, amused by her candor. If there was one thing he appreciated about Night City, it was the blunt honesty of its people. If someone said they wanted to blow you up, they probably meant it.

"Relax," Arthur said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not here to make your life harder. I just need your help with something."

Judy rolled her eyes but gestured for him to sit down. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

Arthur handed over the Mewtwo data he'd copied earlier, and Judy's eyes lit up with interest. For the first time since he entered the room, she looked genuinely engaged.

"This... this is some serious stuff," she muttered, scanning the data. "Where the hell did you get this?"

"Long story," Arthur replied. "Let's just say it involved a lot of explosions and a very unstable 'philosopher.'"

Judy snorted. "Sounds like a typical day in Night City. Alright, I'll help you out. But this is gonna take some time, so don't expect miracles."

Arthur leaned back, lighting another cigarette. "Take all the time you need. I'm not in a rush."

As Judy got to work, Arthur let his mind wander. The Ritz Bar, Judy, Susie—it all felt like stepping into a memory, a warped version of the Night City he thought he knew. But now, this wasn't just a game. This was real life, and Arthur had no choice but to play along.

One way or another, he'd figure out how to navigate this twisted city. After all, in Night City, survival wasn't just a skill—it was an art form.

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