But soon, Gloria noticed the figure sitting lazily across the room, smoke curling from his cigarette, a cocky, familiar smirk tugging at his lips.
Her eyes narrowed sharply.
There was no mistaking him.
The messy black windbreaker, covered in a layer of dust and grime yet somehow still bearing no smell.
The cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
The playful, almost defiant look in his eyes.
It was him.
Arthur Martinez.
The husband who had vanished from Night City years ago without a trace.
The man she had long believed was rotting in some nameless gutter, forgotten like so many others.
"Arthur, you b*****d!" Gloria roared, her voice cracking with emotion. "How dare you come back!!!"
Before anyone could react, she launched herself at him, fists flying.
Arthur barely moved. He caught her in a tight hug, pinning her arms against him as she tried in vain to rain blows down on his face.
Her punches, wild and furious, hit his chest, his shoulders, even attempted a few solid hits to his face—but to Arthur, it was like being hit by a kitten.
His body, after years of cybernetic upgrades, was more steel than flesh. His dermal armor absorbed the blows without so much as a scratch.
This was the difference between an ordinary citizen and a battle-hardened cyberpunk.
Gloria's fists pounded like tiny hammers against an immovable wall.
Finally, when it seemed she might actually try to slap him across the face, Arthur simply dipped his head down and sealed her protests with a kiss.
Victor, standing awkwardly nearby, visibly winced.
Without a word, he poured himself another full glass of whiskey.
After all, what was there to say?
The feeling of finally saving a patient... only to be forcibly fed a gallon of dog food by said patient and her husband... was indescribable.
He should have just stayed upstairs.
Victor took another long drink, pretending very hard to be invisible.
Meanwhile, Arthur's kiss stretched on and on.
Gloria struggled at first, but slowly, almost reluctantly, her resistance faded.
When Arthur finally broke the kiss after three long minutes, Gloria collapsed against his chest, red-faced, refusing to look at anyone—especially not at David, who was sitting stiffly a few feet away, wide-eyed and completely shell-shocked.
David was... dumbfounded.
His image of his mother—strict, no-nonsense, practically a military drill sergeant—shattered before his very eyes.
The woman who once grounded him for breathing too loudly during dinner was now blushing like a teenager in the arms of a man he barely knew.
What the hell just happened to my world?
Arthur chuckled quietly and gently rubbed Gloria's back.
"Have you had enough trouble?" he teased softly.
Gloria nodded weakly, her face buried against his chest.
Arthur smiled.
With Gloria snuggled in his arms, he stood up, gave Victor a casual salute, and said, "Put the bill on my account, Vic. If I'm short, just keep a tab open. Might need the cash for something... bigger."
Victor merely waved him off, muttering something into his glass about charging Arthur double next time.
Without further ceremony, Arthur scooped up Gloria bridal-style and motioned for David to follow.
On the way out, Arthur spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry," he said to Gloria, voice low enough that only she could hear. "It must've been hard these past years. But I'm back. This time... for good."
Gloria didn't reply with words.
Instead, she buried her face deeper into his chest, letting the steady thrum of his cybernetic heart lull her into a fragile, unspoken trust.
Arthur smiled to himself.
There would be time to rebuild what they lost.
One step at a time.
Later that night, the TV blared its usual static-soaked nonsense:
"Good morning, Night City!
I'm your old pal Stanley, back to bring you another day of heartbreak, hope, and heinous crimes!
Whether you're a corpo rat or a gutterpunk, Night City loves you—just like your mother!"
The crude humor crackled through the tiny living room.
Arthur, sprawled lazily on the couch, half-listened as he cleaned one of his pistols.
Meanwhile, Gloria stirred awake from the battered secondhand bed.
She blinked groggily at the clock and immediately panicked.
Shit, work!
Still stiff from the surgery, she tried to scramble out of bed, grabbing her clothes with frantic hands.
Arthur caught her around the waist before she could bolt.
He held up a small, slim injector—the unmistakable gleam of a high-grade pneumatic syringe.
Without waiting for permission, he pressed it gently against her hip and pulled the trigger.
A soft hiss.
The inhibitor chip inside would keep her newly installed prosthetics from causing rejection for the next few days.
Gloria yelped softly.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, cheeks flushing.
Arthur smirked and let her go.
"Relax. I just installed your survival patch.
You're not fit to work right now.
New chrome needs adjustment.
Try running around Night City in your condition, you'll rip your lungs out through your spine."
He stretched and sauntered over to the small dining table.
"Come on. Breakfast's ready."
Gloria gritted her teeth but ultimately followed him, muttering under her breath about "b*****d men" and "thinking they know everything."
David was already at the table, shoveling synthetic eggs into his mouth with both hands.
When Gloria spotted him, she immediately frowned.
"David! Why aren't you at school?"
Without missing a beat, David threw up his best defense.
"Dad said I could stay home!"
Arthur, caught mid-bite, glared at his traitorous son.
Good god, he had raised a snitch.
But he nodded and chimed in before Gloria could launch into full lecture mode.
"It's been a rough couple of days.
Let him breathe a little, Gloria."
Gloria pursed her lips but said nothing.
The logic was sound—barely—but sound nonetheless.
However, David wasn't done.
"And Dad said he's taking me to the Afterlife Bar later!"
The room froze.
Arthur dropped his fork with a metallic clatter.
Gloria turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
Arthur smiled weakly.
"Ahaha... kids say the funniest things, don't they?"
Gloria said nothing.
Instead, she calmly walked over, lifted her foot, and stomped hard on Arthur's instep.
Arthur yelped, grabbing his foot and hopping in circles like a wounded animal.
Gloria stepped off with a satisfied huff and returned to her breakfast as if nothing had happened.
David, chewing his rubbery eggs, watched the entire thing with a mixture of horror and awe.
Mom was a beast... and Dad was a bigger idiot.
Arthur nursed his aching foot as he limped back to his chair.
"You're getting violent in your old age," he grumbled.
"What did you say?" Gloria said sweetly, twirling her plastic fork like a dagger.
Arthur sat up straight immediately, flashing a big fake smile.
"I said you look as young as the day we first met!"
He even reached over and gently pinched her cheek.
Gloria flushed, turning pink as a fresh rose.
She lowered her head and focused entirely on her synthetic bread.
Arthur grinned, satisfied.
Still had the magic touch.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the battered little apartment filled with something rare in Night City:
Laughter.
Warmth.
The faint, impossible promise of peace.
Maybe, just maybe, this time things would be different.
Arthur had a new chance.
A family worth fighting for.
A life worth living.
And in Night City...
That was a victory greater than any legend.