Even though Arthur managed to "borrow" a car from his Sixth Street brother yesterday with heartwarming enthusiasm,
in the end, he and David still had to take the tram to Arasaka Academy today.
David followed along reluctantly, casting suspicious glances at his old man.
Along the way, Arthur kept muttering angrily:
"Zhuo! What the hell happened to Night City?!"
"I leave for a decade, and now everyone acts like they've never seen a mantis knife negotiation before!"
"Back in my day, you whip out a mantis knife, slice a little, and neighbors bring you beer. Now?
Scream 'cyberpsycho' and call the cops. So rude!"
David rubbed his temple.
He'd seen parents cheat their kids before, but never had he seen one cheat their own son so hard.
If he wasn't already semi-famous around the neighborhood, and people didn't recognize him,
maybe even the Terrorist Mobile Team would've kicked down their door by now.
"Dad..." David hesitated, then gritted his teeth and blurted out:
"Maybe your cyberpsychosis isn't getting better.
How about you... y'know, go see Dr. Victor? For a little checkup?"
For the sake of his own fragile life expectancy, David figured he had to try.
If it weren't for the wrong time and place, he honestly considered calling the Terrorist Mobile Team himself
and anonymously turning Arthur in.
Before Arthur could open his mouth to deliver a nuclear counterattack,
a crisp female voice cut through the tram.
"I think your son's right. You really need to get your head checked."
Arthur turned around — and saw a familiar figure.
White hair that shimmered rainbow colors under the sun.
Slim figure. Smoking lazily.
An expression so cold it could freeze an Arasaka exec solid.
It was Lucy.
Arthur stared at her hair, suspicious.
Could it be a wig?
Normal hair didn't sparkle like that.
Maybe she was bald underneath?
Maybe she'd gone crazy and installed RGB LED lights directly into her scalp?
Cyberpsychosis comes in all colors, after all.
Arthur looked at Lucy.
Then at his own son.
Then smacked David clean across the back of the head.
"Kid, where are your manners?! This is your father's good friend Lucy! Call her Auntie Lucy! Right now!"
Lucy, still holding her cigarette midair, visibly twitched.
The cigarette nearly snapped between her fingers.
Auntie?!
She was in her twenties!
David stared wide-eyed at Lucy, mouth opening—and immediately shutting again when Lucy shot him a look sharp enough to slice steel.
David used to think Lucy was pretty.
Now he thought she might be even crazier than his old man.
No wonder they were friends.
Birds of a psycho feather flock together.
Arthur, completely oblivious, flashed a big fake smile at Lucy:
"Mama, forgive him. Kid's shy. He'll learn manners when I beat 'em into him later."
Lucy dragged deeply on her cigarette, her hands trembling.
If she didn't smoke, she felt like she might slap Arthur so hard his RGB memories would reset.
"Arthur..."
Her voice strained with patience.
"...I'm in my twenties."
"And you want your brat to call me 'aunt'?!"
Arthur, completely serious, fired back:
"Of course! I'm Arthur Martinez, 40 years old, living in Santo Domingo!"
"I smoke, I drink, I work till 7 PM, get home, and fall asleep at 1 AM after pounding a liter of vodka and building crap in my workshop.
I sleep half an hour, wake up at dawn, and drag my exhaustion to the next day!"
"The doctors say I'm perfectly healthy and don't need any checkups ever again!"
David, wide-eyed, nodded solemnly.
The logic was flawless.
There were no holes.
Lucy crushed her cigarette underfoot, took out another one, lit it—and inhaled like her life depended on it.
"You, you absolute f**king psycho—!"
"This is 2076! There's no such thing as 'ethics' in Night City anymore!"
"You want your son to call me sister, you idiot! Not aunt!"
Arthur shrugged innocently.
"2076, 2096, 3076... same thing."
"And besides," he said reasonably, "you're friends with Maine. Maine's friends with me.
By the sacred law of Street Brohood, that makes you my good friend."
"And good friends are called auntie! Simple!"
David almost clapped.
His father's bullshit skills were reaching Olympic levels.
Lucy's face turned darker than Night City's sewers.
Just when she was about to tear Arthur a new one, he squinted at her and asked:
"By the way, Lucy—what are you doing here? Catching the tram to school too?"
Lucy sighed, took another drag of her cigarette, and replied in a voice flat and cold:
"Side hustle. A little freelance work."
Arthur's eyes lit up like a kid spotting a free ice cream stand.
"Perfect! I need a hacker today anyway!"
Before Lucy could refuse, Arthur leaned forward, stealing the cigarette right from her mouth and sticking it in his own.
"Girls shouldn't smoke. It's bad for your health."
Lucy didn't even blink.
She simply pulled out a new cigarette, lit it again, and resigned herself to the fact that arguing with Arthur was like arguing with gravity.
"You said hacker work?"
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "What kind of job?"
Arthur scratched the back of his head, looking casual.
"Relax, it's nothing dangerous."
"I need someone to tweak some company records for me. Easy."
Lucy narrowed her eyes.
Easy?
In Arthur's dictionary, 'easy' probably meant breaking into Arasaka's HQ and installing malware directly into Saburo Arasaka's brainstem.
But she was short about two hundred thousand eddies lately.
Very short.
"...How much?"
Arthur grinned.
"More than your cigarettes cost, that's for sure."