Cyberpunk Patriarch

Judy's gaze lingered on Arthur's arm, her expression shifting as she studied the gleaming mechanical limb.

Arthur noticed immediately and chuckled softly, understanding her earlier bluntness. Judy was still young, shielded by the Mox gang's protection. She thought she understood the harsh realities of Night City, but she had only scratched the surface. She hadn't experienced the raw brutality firsthand—the blood mist splattering across her face, the iron tang in the air replacing oxygen.

Arthur leaned back and smiled, trying to lighten the tension.

"This," he said, lifting his arm slightly, "is a genuine Mantis Blade. You won't find this model on the market. It's an experimental prosthesis gifted to me by a friend in the company. They scrapped the project because it was too much for the human brain to handle."

Judy's lips curled into a skeptical smirk. "A friend, huh? You must've been real tight with this 'friend.'"

Arthur knew exactly what she was thinking. Judy assumed he'd stolen the blades from some corporate lab, and she wasn't entirely wrong. These Mantis Blades had indeed come from an Arasaka lab, swiped during a mission gone sideways.

What she didn't know was that they were partly to blame for his descent into cyberpsychosis.

"You've got plenty of brothers," Judy said, breaking the silence. "But the one you pulled this data from? His brain's mostly empty. Aside from some memories of getting 'taught lessons' by you and blowing someone's head into paste, there's not much else worth noting."

Judy paused, shuddering slightly as she recalled the recording. "Oh, and let's not forget that 90% of his Mewtwo time was spent... relieving himself. Honestly, I deserve hazard pay for sitting through that."

Arthur exhaled a plume of smoke, feeling a pang of secondhand embarrassment. "That's my brother for you," he muttered.

"That said," Judy continued, "he does have a property in Pacifica. Looks like some kind of factory. If you can track him down, you might be able to convince him to transfer it to you."

Arthur frowned. "Pacifica? That place is a wasteland."

Judy shrugged. "Apparently, he bought it during the freehold craze. Paid a fortune, thinking it had development potential."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "And that's why he lost it, huh? No wonder he went crazy."

Judy chuckled. "Here's the kicker—he's been paying taxes on that place for years. Night City will repossess it if he stops, but he's somehow managed to keep up with the payments."

Arthur sighed. "Pacifica's got better odds of becoming beachfront property than ever being worth those taxes."

He stood and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. "Here's the deal: delete the parts where I took him out. Get rid of anything incriminating. Keep the footage of his rampages, edit it into a clean Mewtwo, and sell it online."

Judy's face soured. "Seriously? This is some twisted stuff, Arthur."

He waved her concern away. "We split the profits 70/30. I get 70, you get 30. If it doesn't sell, no big deal."

Judy crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Why not take this to Jimmy Kurosaki? That guy eats this kind of content for breakfast."

Arthur smirked. "Because you're the best, Judy. You're an artist. And great artists push boundaries."

"Boundaries?" she scoffed. "Do I need to become a pervert to be a great Mewtwo editor?"

"Exactly," Arthur replied, deadpan. "Only a pervert can truly understand other perverts. You've got what it takes, Judy."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll do it. But only because I don't want you loitering around the Lizzie's Bar any longer."

Arthur grinned. "That's the spirit. Oh, one more thing—I need a copy of the original data for my kid."

Judy blinked, baffled. "You're giving this as a gift to your kid? What kind of parenting is this?"

Arthur shrugged. "Think of it as a life lesson. If he keeps watching Black Mewtwo, he'll end up like my brother—or worse, me."

Judy groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright, fine. I'll edit the data and get it done, but don't come crying to me if your kid ends up traumatized."

Arthur leaned in, unbothered by her sarcasm. "I appreciate it, Judy. You're the best."

She muttered something under her breath as she turned back to her computer.

Editing Mewtwo wasn't just tedious; it was mentally exhausting. Editors had to immerse themselves in the recordings, experiencing every detail firsthand before reworking the narrative. That was why most editors stuck to content they enjoyed—it made the process less grueling.

Unfortunately for Judy, this project was far from enjoyable. She grimaced as she dove into the raw footage, sorting through scenes of violence and chaos.

"Your kid's into Black Mewtwo?" she asked suddenly, trying to break the tension.

Arthur nodded. "Yeah. Gets it from his mom's side."

"You know it's bad for him, right? Watching too much Black Mewtwo can cause nightmares. Hell, it could even trigger cyberpsychosis."

Arthur smirked. "That's why I'm giving him this. It's a warning. If he doesn't cut it out, he'll end up like my brother—or worse, like me."

Judy sighed, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."

By the time she finished, Judy felt drained but relieved. She handed Arthur the edited Mewtwo and a separate copy of the raw data.

"There you go," she said. "Now, get out of here before I change my mind."

Arthur took the files, gave her a mock salute, and walked out of the bar.

As he disappeared into the neon-lit streets of Night City, Judy leaned back in her chair and lit another cigarette. She couldn't decide if Arthur was a genius or a madman—or maybe both.

In this city, there wasn't much difference anyway.

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