Arthur exited the Ritz Bar with quiet satisfaction, the data he'd secured weighing less on his mind than the world outside. With a few quick calls, he contacted Liujie—a monk-turned-fixer he'd met during his street-hustling days—and managed to borrow a ride. Moments later, he was behind the wheel, cruising through Night City's glimmering filth.
En route, he pinged Regina. The paperwork had gone through. The Pacifica property, donated by yet another poor soul gripped by cyberpsychosis, now belonged to him. Arthur chuckled, lighting a cigarette as he drove. "Let me, Arthur, pay the tax bills of Night City's broken minds," he muttered. Even for someone as cynical as him, there was a strange comfort in helping someone he didn't really know. Maybe that was growth—or maybe just ego.
Before long, he reached his apartment complex in Santo Domingo. The building towered above the dust-choked skyline, a vertical shanty draped in digital ads and graffiti. He parked below, took the elevator up, and allowed himself a rare moment of reflection. It had been a damn good day—6,800 eddies earned off selling modified "piglets," a respectful nod to his recently-decommissioned cyberpsycho "brother." And now, a backup production base in Pacifica, shady as it was, offered some options. If nothing else, he could make nice with the Voodoo Boys, unload some surplus suppression chips, and keep scraping by.
The thought of future cash flow made him grin. That BD he'd pulled off his brother—especially if Judy followed through on his ridiculous idea to spin a niche "bd" experience around bladder pressure relief—could rake in serious money. Hell, Night City was full of neurotic degenerates. There was a market for everything.
Still smirking, Arthur stepped into his apartment. Warm light filled the space. It was small, patched together, but it was his. A fragile slice of stability in a city built on ruins. David sat hunched in the corner, scowling at homework. Despite being top of his class, the lack of decent tech meant he was stuck with pen and paper. His irritation practically steamed off the desk. Across the room, Gloria stood by the window, eyes distant, mind elsewhere.
Arthur's heart warmed. For all the blood, grime, and madness outside, this was why he fought. Why he endured.
"Not bad," he muttered, shaking off his boots. Then he remembered: the system's daily sign-in.
"Alright, Tongzi, let's see what jackpot you've got for me today. Sign in."
[Ding! Sign-in successful. Congratulations, host has acquired advanced mechanical knowledge.]
Arthur's head throbbed as a tidal wave of information flooded his brain—weapon crafting, cyberware tuning, prosthetic design, electrical schematics, upgrade theory. He staggered back, groaning. "Tongzi, could you upload this stuff without trying to turn me into a vegetable? I'm not a damn data shard."
As expected, the system gave him no answer.
Still holding his forehead, Arthur called out, "Kids! I'm home!"
David looked up, unimpressed. Gloria strolled over, rolling her eyes as she helped him out of his coat. Arthur took advantage of her proximity, letting his hands roam a little. Her blush was instant, and her elbow jab wasn't far behind.
"David's watching," she hissed.
Arthur glanced at his son, who stared at them with visible confusion.
"What're you lookin' at, punk?" Arthur barked, feigning annoyance.
David shrugged. "Just wondering what you're doing."
"Mind your business and finish your homework," Arthur snapped, quickly sitting beside him to deflect attention. After a moment, he slid a small box from his pocket and handed it to David. "Haven't given you a birthday gift in years. Here—don't let your mom see."
David's eyes lit up… until he saw the ghostly insignia of the Ritz BD editors on the packaging.
"This... isn't from a certified vendor," he muttered.
Arthur smirked. "Of course not. It's a gift from your old man. Custom-cut, hand-crafted chaos—featuring yours truly."
David's face twisted between disbelief and curiosity. "Why?"
Arthur flicked his head. "Because you're nosy. Because you're watching too much Black BD. And because if you keep it up, you'll end up like your uncle—or worse, like me. Consider it a warning. Judy edited the footage clean. It's educational."
David's shoulders tensed, but he tucked the box away. He didn't argue—not yet.
Across the room, Gloria's voice cut through. "What are you two up to?"
Arthur stood and stretched. "Just sharing father-son wisdom. Building character."
Gloria narrowed her eyes but didn't push. David resumed his homework, though his pen moved slower than before.
Arthur looked around the room, took a deep breath, and smiled to himself. A little money, a lot of madness, and a family that hadn't abandoned him yet.
Life, for the moment, was good.
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