Cyberpunk Patriarch

50 + chapters available in patreon🎉🎉🎉

Special offer available just check it out.

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

Jack scratched the back of his head, picked up the pump syringe Arthur handed him, and pressed it into his abdomen.

Within moments, a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. His heart began to beat louder and faster, and his face flushed as though he was genuinely excited.

While any competent doctor in Night City could easily identify this reaction as a side effect of stimulants, security personnel weren't exactly trained physicians.

After all, someone skilled enough to be a doctor wouldn't waste their time as a security guard. And unless you were a cyberpsychotic lunatic, causing trouble in North Oak—the jewel of Westbrook—was akin to dancing on the edge of your own grave. The corporations' iron grip here meant that drawing attention to yourself could summon death itself.

Arthur studied Jack's now flushed and energetic demeanor. "Good," he muttered, nodding in satisfaction. "You look like someone about to have... let's call it an intense conversation with a big star."

Arthur didn't mention that Jack's current appearance might not exactly match the taste of someone like Kerry. Still, he figured if anyone questioned it, he'd just make an excuse about Kerry being in a particularly quirky mood lately.

He sighed, his main concern being whether or not the security guards would raise an alarm by calling Kerry's people before they could finish their task.

Arthur slowly pulled the car over near the security checkpoint, rolling down his window to address the guards.

"Hey there! Still working the noon shift? Tough job, huh?" Arthur said casually, flashing a disarming grin. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a high-end pack of cigarettes, and handed it to one of the guards.

The cigarette brand was premium—far too expensive for Arthur to afford himself. It had been a gift from Lao, one that Arthur had held onto for moments like this.

The guard looked Arthur over, assessing his outfit and demeanor before visibly relaxing. He accepted the cigarette, his experienced hands betraying how often he'd done this sort of thing.

In Night City, corruption wasn't just common—it was expected. How else could anyone survive on the pitiful salaries handed out in this corporate hellhole?

Arthur felt a wave of relief. This was a gamble, but it seemed he'd read the situation correctly. Even in North Oak, where wealth and power were concentrated, security guards had their own personal "needs" and blind spots.

"What's your name?" one of the guards asked, his hand still resting cautiously on his weapon. "And why are you bringing someone here at noon?"

Arthur's instincts kicked in. His survival in Night City had always depended on his quick wit and convincing lies.

"Ah, hi! My name's Qwen," he said smoothly, adding just the right amount of nervous energy. "I'm covering for a buddy who's, uh… out of commission. Got into it with the Sixth Street Gang. Now he's in the hospital waiting for a small cannon implant, you know? Anyway, I've got no choice but to fill in for him."

The guard's expression shifted as he instinctively crossed his legs, a cold chill running down his spine at the thought. Gang life in Night City was brutal, and those who got caught in the crossfire often paid dearly.

In the distance, an NCPD officer leaned against a wall, casually smoking. He overheard the conversation but made no move to intervene. His job was to observe and report—not get entangled in the dealings of the city's elite. Turning away, he strolled off to find a quieter spot.

The security guard shook his head, chuckling darkly. "Tough break for your buddy, but we still need to check your vehicle. Standard protocol, you understand. Step out, and let's get this done."

Arthur's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. He stepped out of the car, gesturing for the guard to follow him a few paces away.

"Look," Arthur began, lowering his voice. "I'm not saying you shouldn't do your job thoroughly, but I'm afraid you might not be ready for what's inside."

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Not ready? Listen, pal, I've been working this post for years. I've seen it all. What could possibly be in that car that I can't handle?"

Arthur hesitated. He knew the guard wouldn't back down and that the inspection was inevitable.

The guard smirked, brushing past Arthur as he approached the vehicle. With practiced ease, he opened the door to the backseat, his expression turning lecherous as he prepared to inspect the "goods."

The car door creaked slightly as it swung open.

What the guard saw froze him in his tracks.

Jack sat there, dressed in a garish pink dress, his makeup slightly smudged but still in place. His flushed face and the lingering effects of the stimulant only added to the absurdity of the situation.

The guard's lecherous grin evaporated, replaced by a look of pure disbelief. He stood frozen, staring as though he'd just stumbled upon something otherworldly.

Arthur watched the scene unfold, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He placed a hand on the guard's shoulder and leaned in. "I told you… I wasn't sure you'd be able to handle it."

The guard's face twitched as he struggled to process what he was looking at. After several long seconds, he finally stepped back, closing the car door with trembling hands.

"Y-you're good to go," he stammered, avoiding eye contact as he waved them through.

Arthur gave the guard a friendly pat on the back, slipping a cigarette into his hand before returning to the driver's seat.

As they pulled away from the checkpoint and headed deeper into North Oak, Arthur glanced in the rearview mirror. Jack was staring out the window, his face a mixture of irritation and resignation.

"You handled that like a pro," Arthur said with a grin.

"Shut up," Jack muttered.

Arthur chuckled, turning his attention back to the road. They were one step closer to their goal, but the real challenge still lay ahead.

In the distance, the towering villas of Night City's elite gleamed like monuments to excess and power. The contrast between their opulence and the chaos of the city below was stark, a reminder of the gulf that separated the privileged few from everyone else.

Arthur tightened his grip on the steering wheel. This wasn't just a job—it was a chance to make a statement. And no matter what it took, he was determined to see it through.

–––--––-------------------------------

Visit our Patreon for more:

patreon.com/Samurai492