"Don't talk about the doctor like that! He's a good guy!"
David immediately defended his shady, license-lacking prosthetic "doctor" with a straight face.
"He just didn't pass the exam, that's all. But he's really good!"
Arthur gave him a sideways glance, eyes full of disdain.
"A doctor who can't even bring someone back from the dead—how dare you call that good?"
Arthur sneered and took a long drag from an invisible cigarette.
David froze.
What kind of insane standards was this man operating under?
Arthur's expectations for doctors were apparently:
"Either revive the dead or don't bother."
David imagined all the Night City doctors kneeling on the ground, slapping themselves in the face and apologizing:
"I'm sorry, I pretended to be a doctor without being able to resurrect people!"
Arthur clicked his tongue and continued:
"Besides, that so-called doctor of yours couldn't even beat a half-dead scavenger! You think someone like that can fix your prosthetics properly?"
David scratched his head.
"...But why should doctors have to beat up scavengers?
Shouldn't they just... be good at medicine?"
Arthur shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
He pulled out a cigarette, about to educate this naive brat—
only for Gloria to swoop in like a hawk, snatch the cigarette, and toss it straight into the trash without even blinking.
Arthur froze, scratched his nose awkwardly, and cleared his throat.
He pointed a stern finger at David.
"Listen carefully, kid. In Night City, a good prosthetic doc isn't just good with scalpels and wires—he also needs to be able to punch a man's skull in."
Arthur leaned in conspiratorially.
"Take Old Vic for example. Remember Victor, the guy who fixed your mom last time? Looks like a harmless old nerd with glasses, right?"
David nodded, blinking.
Arthur grinned.
"That 'nerd' used to be a prizefighter! One punch from him and you'd fold like wet cardboard.
In fact, if he hadn't gone into medicine, he'd probably have bars named after him in the afterlife."
David blinked again.
"...Huh?"
Arthur kept going, voice full of enthusiasm.
"Next time you're near his clinic, take a peek into that dark corner downstairs. Full of old trophies and gold belts—he's got so many championship awards, he had to throw the extras into a dusty box."
David sat there, utterly bewildered, scratching his messy hair.
Since when did becoming a doctor require a black belt in head-cracking?
David had always thought prosthetic doctors were basically glorified mechanics.
You break your arm? They weld a new one on.
You lose an eye? They pop in a fancy red cyber-eye.
Simple. Easy. No boxing gloves required.
Apparently, according to his dad's Night City survival manual, a real doctor had to be both a surgeon and a professional street fighter.
Arthur, satisfied with the stunned look on his son's face, leaned back in his chair proudly.
The night passed quickly.
The next morning, sunlight poured into the apartment.
Arthur grumbled, stretched his sore back, and hauled himself out of bed.
He glanced over at David, passed out on the couch, drooling onto a half-finished homework sheet.
Without hesitation, Arthur walked over and gave the kid a slap on the head.
WHAP!
"Wake up, lazybones! We've got important business!"
Still half-asleep, David let out a pathetic whine and rolled off the couch like a dying dog.
Arthur ignored him.
Today was house-hunting day.
They needed a new home, preferably one with walls thick enough to survive a stray grenade.
Arthur rinsed his mouth, spat into the sink, and grabbed a cold container of "fried noodles" off the table.
Of course, these weren't real noodles—
probably synthesized from air particles by some shady food company.
They tasted like sadness and industrial grease.
Arthur grimaced as he slurped up a mouthful.
"The damn food companies... I swear their purification systems haven't been cleaned in ten years!
Someday I'm blowing up their whole factory!"
He cursed under his breath, chewing aggressively.
Gloria quietly walked over, placed a glass of sparkling water next to him, and sat down opposite.
Arthur looked at her, feeling warm inside.
Without thinking, he reached out and patted her head affectionately—
just like patting a lucky cat.
Suddenly inspired, Arthur snapped his fingers.
"I got it! We can send David straight to Arasaka Academy! Let the corporate bastards house him there! Saves us the trouble of buying a new place."
He grinned proudly at his own genius.
Gloria, who had just happily accepted half of Arthur's earnings last night, immediately froze—
then rolled her eyes and blushed.
"Bah! You're already thinking of kicking your son out?"
Arthur defended himself.
"It's not kicking him out!
It's called independence training!
At his age, I was already roaming the Ritz Bar by myself—"
Arthur choked halfway through.
Cough, cough.
He quickly changed the subject.
"This fried noodle is so delicious!"
Gloria sighed.
"In Night City, there are no schools with dormitories. It's not like in the old empire days.
Children have to commute."
Arthur blinked.
No dorms?
No security escort?
Just kids walking through Night City alone every day?!
He slammed the table in righteous fury.
"Are those bureaucrats in Night City eating shit?!
The crime rate's skyrocketing!
What if kids get kidnapped or gunned down on the way to school?!"
Gloria just shrugged.
Arthur fumed.
"I'm marching over to Arasaka Academy!
I'm gonna give their principal a good talking to!
Children's safety must come first!"
Gloria leaned her head on one hand, looking supremely bored.
"If you care that much, maybe just buy a bigger house instead of dreaming of free childcare."
Arthur scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"How about... a slightly smaller house?
David's old enough to live on his own now!
Independence, freedom, life experience—"
Arthur's voice grew smaller under Gloria's cold, deadpan stare.
"...Maybe we should buy two bedrooms. Just in case."
Gloria huffed and turned away.
Arthur sighed dramatically.
No respect.
No gratitude.
All he ever wanted was a peaceful day where he didn't have to kill someone before breakfast.
But such was life in Night City.