Cyberpunk Patriarch

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Arthur could tell he had thoroughly annoyed Lucy.

But in Night City, that didn't matter. This was a place where people did whatever they wanted without worrying about the consequences.

"By the way," Lucy suddenly asked, her tone lighter now, "what's the story behind those 'graphics girls' you mentioned earlier?"

She seemed to have calmed herself down, attempting to lighten the mood. After all, Arthur now had leverage over her, and who knew what unpredictable or absurd move he'd make next? Lucy was someone who had fled from the heart of chaos, so she understood how to read the signs of a bad situation.

More importantly, she was curious. The mention of something similar to her own experiences had piqued her interest.

Arthur glanced over at the Voodoo Gang members outside. They had begun clearing corpses and garbage around the factory. Some had already entered the building, cleaning up and organizing unknown bags of "merchandise."

Arthur took a long drag on his cigarette before answering. "To put it simply, a 'graphics girl' is like a computer accessory. Let me give you the short version:

"A long time ago, people were obsessed with a form of virtual currency. To mine that currency, they needed powerful computing devices—graphics cards. Those who worked to maximize computing power were called 'graphics girls.'"

Lucy blinked, unimpressed. "All that, and it's just a story about computer parts? You really know how to waste someone's time."

Arthur chuckled but said nothing. His eyes gleamed as a mischievous idea came to him.

"The old captain's ship is ready to set sail! Are you ready, sailor?" Arthur asked dramatically.

Lucy rolled her eyes but played along, saluting. "AYEAYE, CAPTAIN!"

Arthur smirked. "Huh, why does that response sound familiar? Wait, isn't that from some ancient cartoon? Something about a little yellow sponge under the sea?"

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "You've seen that too? What are you, an archivist? If you're offering me nostalgia, at least throw in some useful resources!"

Arthur laughed. "Resources? Don't get greedy. Now, back to business. I've got a job for you. Ever heard of Dakota?"

Lucy's expression shifted as she leaned against the wall. "The middleman out in the Badlands? She's ancient, isn't she? What, is she getting married or something?"

Arthur smirked. "Don't tempt me. I might just stick a grenade up your—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "No, Dakota reached out about a situation. A team of nomads is speeding toward Night City, but they're in trouble.

"They stole something precious—a container of ashes, apparently—from Militech's 'dear mother.' Now Militech is chasing them down, and the nomads need help. Dakota took the job and passed it to me."

Arthur's eyes twinkled with dark amusement as he leaned in. "Looks like Night City needs someone to preside over justice, don't you think?"

The call ended abruptly as the old captain hung up, leaving Arthur to review the details. He skimmed the files quickly. Just as he suspected, the nomad group involved was the Aldecaldos.

Nomads like the Aldecaldos weren't much different from wandering herdsmen. Their existence stemmed from a global economic crisis that left countless people homeless and jobless.

With no work in their cities, they began migrating from one urban center to another, searching for opportunities that didn't exist. Over time, some resorted to theft and smuggling to survive. To protect themselves, they formed families, which then grew into clans.

The Aldecaldos were one of the oldest and most prominent nomad clans, known for their resilience. But despite their reputation, the nomads were deeply fragmented. They shared a name but little else, with no centralized leadership or unified purpose.

They were wanderers in every sense of the word, drifting between cities and scraping by however they could—odd jobs, smuggling, scavenging. Their lifestyle resembled shepherds moving their flocks from one barren pasture to the next.

Arthur chuckled to himself as he closed the file.

"Well, this city does need some cleaning up. I've got a job to do with the nomads. What about you, Lucy? Heading back to Maman to tweak my programs, or are you coming with me to administer justice in Night City?"

Lucy shot him a sharp look. "Justice in Night City? That's the biggest joke I've ever heard."

"I mean it," Arthur said with a smirk, extending an olive branch.

Lucy rolled her eyes again. "I'm staying here. I'll keep an eye on the factory and let you know when the cleanup's done. Then you can order your equipment."

Arthur shrugged, unsurprised. "Suit yourself." He turned to leave but stopped mid-step. "Oh, and by the way, some delivery guy will bring a chicken later. Make sure it gets to my place, and don't steal any of it!"

Before Lucy could respond, Arthur climbed into his heavily damaged car, The Sword in the Stone. Despite being riddled with bullet holes and visibly battered, the vehicle still ran. That was Night City craftsmanship for you.

As he drove off, Lucy sighed and pulled out her phone.

"Maman? Yeah, it's me," she began. "I need Arthur's full dossier. The whole thing—everything from his childhood to what kind of underwear he liked as a kid.

"What? No, I don't have a crush on him! He's 40! And a cyberpsycho, for crying out loud! Okay, okay, I admit he's good-looking, but that's not the point…"

The journey from Taipingzhou to the Badlands took over an hour. By the time Arthur arrived, the engine of The Sword in the Stone was nearly toast.

Arthur jumped out, lighting one of Lucy's cigarettes as he surveyed the desolate landscape.

"Now this is the smell of the Badlands," he muttered, inhaling the acrid smoke.

The air was thick with dust and radiation. Dry bushes dotted the landscape, while sandstorms raged in the distance. Breathing in this environment was enough to make anyone cough, but for Arthur, it was just another day in the dirt.

"Lovely," he muttered sarcastically, exhaling smoke into the heavy air.

Arthur glanced at the coordinates on his holo-display, confirming his destination. Somewhere in this barren wasteland, the Aldecaldos were waiting for justice—or, at the very least, someone crazy enough to confront Militech on their behalf.

With a sly grin, Arthur flicked his cigarette into the dirt and cracked his knuckles.

"Let's see how much chaos we can stir up today."

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