Cyberpunk Patriarch

After dinner, the small apartment in Santo Domingo fell into a calm stillness. The chaotic energy of the day gave way to a rare moment of peace. Gloria retired early, and David, exhausted from both his academic life and his increasingly unpredictable father, knocked out on the couch without protest.

Arthur lay in bed, wide awake, his thoughts racing. One hand absently fiddled with Gloria's fingers, lifting and lowering her hand in a rhythmic motion. It wasn't about affection—it was more like muscle memory, a mechanical twitch to match his whirring mind.

His gaze drifted toward the living room, where David slept like a rock. A flicker of frustration crossed Arthur's face. The cramped apartment was no longer enough. It was time to move out of this worn-down slice of Santo Domingo. His plans for the future were beginning to solidify, and the first step was clear: start selling suppressors on the black market.

Once that income stream kicked in, he'd set up a shell company—just another startup pretending to care about "cyber health." It didn't matter if the suppressors weren't perfect yet. In Night City, it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. The big corps did it all the time: sell first, get the certification later. Arthur figured he could do the same. After all, why let bureaucratic red tape ruin a good hustle?

Of course, there was the issue of the Animal Gang. They were bound to sniff around eventually. Those juiced-up meatheads were strong as tanks but had the collective IQ of a toaster. Arthur hated dealing with them. Compared to them, even the lunatic Voodoo Boys felt like a book club.

The more he thought about it, the more exhausted he felt. He had left his mercenary life behind, hadn't he? So why did he feel like he was still crawling through the mud, dodging bullets, and outsmarting psychos?

He sighed and turned his head. Gloria lay beside him, peaceful in sleep. He leaned in close and whispered something into her ear—something he hadn't said in a long time.

Instantly, her face flushed. She threw the blanket over her head like a startled child. A soft "hiss" followed, paired with a metallic "clink," the sound of cybernetic enhancements reacting under the sheets. And then... silence.

The next morning, Arthur groggily pulled himself out of bed. His mind flashed back to the night before. Gloria had nearly bolted out the door—it had clearly been a while since they'd last been intimate. He'd barely managed to stop himself before it got awkward. Still, the atmosphere had changed.