Cyberpunk Patriarch

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Jack, a newcomer to the cyberpunk life, had no idea how to infiltrate the North Oak area of Westbrook.

Not that it would matter—even seasoned veterans like Mann would struggle to sneak into such a wealthy district.

"Arthur, think of something, quick!" Jack exclaimed, scratching the back of his head in frustration. His eyes darted to the experienced veteran standing beside him, hoping for a flash of inspiration.

Arthur, silent as usual, lit a cigarette and took a drag before tossing the butt onto the ground. "There's no way we're getting in with these entropy-style rags. We'll need neo-kitsch or neo-militarist clothing to blend in."

This brought up a point about the distinct fashion styles of Night City.

Broadly speaking, clothing in Night City falls into four styles: kitsch, neo-kitsch, neo-militarism, and entropy. Each style is a direct reflection of one's social standing.

Kitsch is defined by neon hair, vibrant tattoos, and prosthetics. This style emphasizes flash and individuality, prioritizing appearance over function. Gangs like the Tiger Claws favor this flashy look.

Neo-kitsch evolves this concept into a luxurious aesthetic. It's the style of celebrities and the ultra-wealthy, drenched in opulence and flaunting wealth through high-end materials.

Neo-militarism is more practical and subdued. It's the hallmark of corporate employees—sharp, functional, and exuding authority.

Lastly, there's entropy, a catch-all for those who don't subscribe to any particular fashion style. Think oversized jackets paired with beach shorts—essentially, whatever's on hand.

Jack groaned at Arthur's suggestion. "If I could afford clothes like that, I wouldn't be scraping by on the streets. Neo-kitsch? That's out of my league, man!"

Arthur smirked knowingly. "Real leather? Yeah, that's the hallmark of neo-kitsch. After all, in a post-nuclear 2076 world, wearing real leather is the height of luxury."

After a moment of thought, Arthur's eyes gleamed with a plan. He turned to Jack, scrutinizing him from head to toe before breaking into a mischievous smile.

"Well, if buying new clothes isn't an option, there's another way. But it'll require a little sacrifice. Up for it?"

Jack's brows furrowed, sensing trouble. "Sacrifice? What kind of sacrifice?"

Arthur grinned and slapped Jack on the shoulder. "Relax. If anyone can pull this off, it's you. I guarantee you'll become a legend among cyberpunks for this."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Arthur, I'm broke, but I've got courage! I'll do whatever it takes. What's the plan?"

"Good man." Arthur nodded approvingly. "When the world hears of what you're about to do, every cyberpunk will tip their hat to you. You'll be famous!"

Arthur's flattery left Jack grinning ear to ear, visions of grandeur swirling in his head. He imagined himself on the top floor of a skyscraper—or better yet, lounging in a villa in North Oak.

But Arthur's sly smile made Jack's stomach churn. Something felt… off.

Still, Jack reminded himself of a cyberpunk's creed: no sacrifice, no reward. He steeled his nerves and followed Arthur's lead.

The Kabuki District

The pair drove to the Kabuki District in Watson. By day, the vibrant streets were quieter, with the workers of Twisted Street yet to clock in.

Though less lively than at night, Kabuki still retained its air of hedonism. The faint smell of human desires lingered in the air—a mix of desperation and ambition.

Arthur led Jack to a dingy, tucked-away clothing store. The shopkeeper, half-asleep from a long night's work, barely acknowledged them as Arthur began browsing.

Jack, however, grew more confused with each passing second. "Arthur, what's with the shopping trip? Are we really buying clothes to sneak in?"

Arthur silenced him with a glance, whispering, "Don't discuss the mission out loud. Walls have ears."

Embarrassed, Jack scratched his head and muttered an apology.

Arthur sifted through racks of clothing, picking out pieces commonly associated with the Tiger Claws gang. He also grabbed several luminous tattoo stickers from the counter.

Jack watched in disbelief. "Why the hell are we buying Tiger Claw gear and stickers? What are we even doing here?"

Arthur ignored the protests and grabbed a bright pink dress—clearly designed for women. He casually stuffed everything into a bag, paid the shopkeeper, and walked out.

"Now," Arthur said, "go stash your motorcycle somewhere safe. I'll grab a car and meet you at Lao's clinic."

Still baffled, Jack nodded and drove off to follow instructions.

A Vehicle for the Plan

Meanwhile, Arthur scoured Kabuki for the next piece of the puzzle: a suitable vehicle. Spotting a Tiger Claws gang member loitering nearby, Arthur approached with calculated confidence.

In one swift motion, he activated his mantis blade and pressed it lightly against the gang member's neck. "We're going to have a friendly little transaction," Arthur said, his voice calm but menacing.

Moments later, Arthur walked away with a Villefort Alvarado V4F570 Mission—a classic car that had fallen out of favor with the rich but remained popular among Night City's underworld.

With its distinctive six-wheel design and imposing frame, the car was perfect for the plan. Arthur grinned. "This will do nicely."

As he climbed into the car, Arthur suddenly remembered something. "I haven't signed in today, have I?"

A mischievous thought crossed his mind. "System, initiate today's sign-in."

[Ding~ Sign-in successful! Congratulations! You've acquired the Baolongxing Inheritance.]

Arthur blinked as a torrent of foul-mouthed phrases and colorful curses flooded his mind. The knowledge was startlingly vivid and, in its own way, useful.

"Tongzi," Arthur muttered under his breath, "you've got a twisted sense of humor. I'm a refined man, not some street brawler."

Still, a grin crept onto his face. He couldn't deny the new skill set might come in handy in a place like Night City.

Shaking off the thought, Arthur revved the engine and headed to Lao's clinic, where Jack was waiting.

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