Cyberpunk Patriarch

50+ chapters in patreon

Discount available check it out 🎉🎉🎉

----------------------------------------------------------

After a while, the family finished dinner and went to bed. Arthur lay on his bed, reflecting on the events of the day. He absentmindedly held Gloria in one hand, shifting her up and down. Even though he couldn't actually eat, it felt good to have something to do with his hands.

As his thoughts wandered, he turned his head to glance at David, who was asleep on the sofa. Arthur's eyes filled with a mix of irritation and disdain. It was time to move out of Santo Domingo. The plan to make money was starting to take shape. The suppressor would be sold on the black market, among cyberpunks and regular people.

Arthur still needed to establish the company. It would be a routine operation: sell first, submit for inspection later. If big corporations could do it, so could he. The people of Night City were like insects, always eager to avoid trouble. They wouldn't come after you unless you provoked them.

On the other hand, the Animal Gang was bound to cause problems. They were all pumped up on steroids, growing stronger but losing their brains. Arthur found them even harder to deal with than the crazed members of the Voodoo Boys.

The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. Wasn't he trying to leave this life behind? Why was it so complicated? He turned his head again, looking at Gloria beside him. Leaning toward her, he whispered something into her ear.

Her face flushed instantly, and she shot a glance at David, who was still fast asleep. She pulled the covers up over herself. Then, there was the sound of a dragon roaring and a quiet hiss, followed by the usual clink of metal.

The next morning, Arthur groggily got out of bed. It seemed like Gloria almost ran away yesterday—after all, it had been quite a while since they were last intimate. If Arthur hadn't controlled himself at the critical moment, it would have been awkward for both of them.

Arthur figured he might need to be patient, but Gloria was looking at David with increasing distaste. David, still confused, munched on the bread in his hand. He looked at his mother, sensing that something was off. Was it just his imagination, or had his mom stopped loving him?

David frowned, feeling more and more like a stranger in his own home. "Does that look mean disgust?" he muttered to himself.

"No, mommy loves me again!" he reasoned with a smile.

Arthur stood by the window, watching as Night City slowly woke up. Just outside, a trauma team's floating vehicle sped past his window at high speed. A loudspeaker blared as it zoomed by: "This is the trauma team, setting out to rescue the target client..."

In the distance, Arthur saw the Terrorist Mobile Team's aerial vehicle, blaring loudly as cyber-psychos leaped out, seemingly engaging in some kind of cleanup operation. There were people jumping from one building to another, their bodies fully augmented with prosthetics. To an outsider, they would look like failures, but in this city, they were just another part of the chaos.

Gunshots echoed in the distance, along with the roar of fire.

"Good morning, Night City!" a voice shouted over the radio, and Stanlina's dramatic voice came booming through the speakers. A new day had begun in this lively, unpredictable city.

Arthur shook his head with a sigh. "Night City is still the same as it was more than ten years ago."

He shrugged, grabbed his clothes, and dressed himself. Looking at the synthetic bread on the table, he scratched his head. "I ate real chicken yesterday, and today I have to eat this cheap synthetic food again. This life is making me scratch my head," he muttered.

Eventually, father and son left the apartment together. The hallway was filled with the sour stench of fresh vomit. In addition to the strange liquid on the floor, there were piles of black garbage bags everywhere. Arthur grimaced at the sight, but most people didn't mind. Some even slept on the floor among the mess, indifferent to the filth around them.

Walking through the corridor, many people wore cheap Mewtwos on their heads with cups underneath. They were making random noises, half-asleep. It was the same, no matter what era you were from.

As they stepped outside, David looked at Arthur warily. He was worried that his father might try to get him to steal a car for him again.

"Hey, what's with that look? Am I, your father, really that unreliable?" Arthur complained, uncomfortable under David's stare. David blinked, then nodded in agreement.

Arthur's mouth twitched. He pulled the keys to the motorcycle out of his pocket and inserted a finger through the key ring, turning it.

"My friend gave me a car yesterday. Let's go. I don't have to borrow one from my friends in the Sixth Street Gang today. Wouldn't that hurt their feelings? They're probably disappointed we don't need their help anymore."

David exhaled in relief when he saw the keys. But hearing Arthur's words, he couldn't help but roll his eyes. "The Sixth Street Gang must be cursed to meet you. They'll definitely be happy, not sad. You're not hurting anyone's feelings."

Arthur laughed, though David's words were partially true. Sure, there were plenty of vehicles in Night City, and the black cars didn't cost much. But the problem was no one could stand being robbed every day, especially the gang members who prided themselves on their reputation. If one of their cars got stolen, it would be the ultimate shame.

David followed Arthur to where the motorcycle was parked last night. It seemed the two-wheeled vehicle wasn't valuable enough to steal, or maybe the motorcycle was just too old. Either way, no one had taken it, even though it had been left unattended on the streets of Night City.

"Cool, is this a Brennan Apollo?" David asked, rushing forward and running his hands over the vehicle.

The Brennan Apollo wasn't known for its sleek design or cutting-edge technology. In fact, its simplicity might seem old-fashioned to some. But to those who knew, it was built for one thing: the wilderness. Powerful enough to leave any Chaos Daohui gang behind, it was a rugged vehicle, designed to handle the toughest terrain.

Arthur started the engine and revved the throttle, a deep growl echoing through the air. David was immediately excited, rushing to stand behind Arthur.

Arthur pulled a small helmet from a compartment and handed it to David.

This wasn't Scorpion's car from the original story, but another vehicle from the Rangers group. It was a gift from some tribe of dead wanderers, equipped with both an auxiliary fuel tank and a reserve tank—perfect for long, dangerous journeys.

The father and son climbed into the motorcycle, ready to face another day in the chaotic streets of Night City.

--------------------------------------------------

Visit our Patreon for more:

patreon.com/Samurai492