Cyberpunk Patriarch-Chapter 94 – Creating Chaos

Tanaka woke with a jolt, just moments after Maine and the others had slipped out of the building.

His vision swam, body aching, but his cybernetic augmentations were kicking in now—top-tier Arasaka implants, the kind reserved for executives who mattered. Not that he could fight, but he could think, analyze, talk.

And that's exactly what he tried.

"I know you..." Tanaka rasped, his voice still hoarse, eyes narrowing on Arthur. "Arthur Martinez, right? Arasaka knows your file. You were that mechanic—fixed the Green Lab at Arasaka Academy, didn't you?"

Arthur didn't respond. He stood there, cigarette in hand, eyes fixed on the corner of his HUD, where a timer ticked down in the lower-left. Three minutes. That's how much longer he needed to wait—just long enough for Maine's crew to get into position before the fireworks started.

Tanaka kept talking, weak but persistent. "What a waste. You have potential that doesn't match your path..."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected a recruitment pitch.

"Let me go," Tanaka continued. "Help me, and I'll make sure Arasaka takes you in. You'd be welcomed. Studied, yes—but rewarded. A cyberpsycho who clawed his way back to rationality? That's... valuable. Rare."

Arthur let the words hang in the air, the faint buzz of the city vibrating through the walls.

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"You don't understand the world, Martinez," Tanaka muttered, voice trembling through the pain. "Arasaka is power. The name alone is divine. To fight us is to fight gods. That never ends well..."

Arthur turned to glance at him. The man was pale, shivering, pushing up his glasses like he could still maintain control through protocol.

But Arthur wasn't worried. Whatever cocktail the Scavs had pumped into him—designed to keep organs harvestable without killing the host—was still burning through his system. Tanaka might talk, but he couldn't move.

"Talk too much," Arthur muttered. "Just makes you sound weak."

He exhaled smoke slowly, letting the nicotine center him, and then flicked the cigarette to the side. The orange ember arced through the air before disappearing in the shadows.

Arthur rolled his shoulders, a grin curling onto his lips.

He took a breath, eyes gleaming. "It's been a long time since I caused this kind of mayhem."

He looked down at Tanaka and gave the man an experimental lift, hefting him up and down like a human weight. "You ever seen a circus, corpo?"

Tanaka blinked, baffled. "What...?"

"A circus," Arthur repeated, clearly enjoying himself. "You know, the old-timey shows. Animals. Clowns. Chaos. There was this one act—human cannonball. They'd stick some poor bastard in a giant cannon, light the fuse, and boom! He'd go flying across the tent."

Tanaka's expression flickered with confusion, then unease. "That's... a bit outdated, don't you think?"

Arthur's grin widened. "Maybe. But classics never go out of style."

He could almost see it now—Tanaka's nose painted red, greasepaint smeared across his face, ridiculous grin plastered over corporate dread. The thought made him chuckle.

"Congratulations," Arthur said. "You've just been cast in the leading role."

And with that, he pivoted, stomped hard on the wall opposite them—BOOM.

A blast echoed through the room as the concrete cracked open, revealing a hole wide enough for three people to walk through. Rubble tumbled outward like a landslide.

To Arthur, time slowed.

In the distance, a Trauma Team AV—those sleek armored medevac carriers with VTOL thrusters—hovered in place, scanning the area for the extraction signal. Their red lights blinked in slow motion, and Arthur's eyes gleamed.

"Showtime."

He spun, took a few running steps, and launched Tanaka like a missile through the hole.

"Arthur's Cannon—FIRE!"

Tanaka's screams were lost in the wind as his body sailed through the air like a ragdoll, crashing violently into the side of the Trauma Team's float vehicle. The impact sprayed crimson against the windshield.

Arthur was already airborne right behind him, both mantis blades snapping out with a hiss.

From the perspective of the Trauma Team, it was chaos.

One second, their sensors pinged a signal from the ground. The next, their target—Tanaka—was a ballistic blob hurtling at them like a goddamn cybernetic cannonball.

THUD!

Tanaka hit the windshield with enough force to set off internal alarms. Then, before the crew could react, Arthur landed on the hood of the AV like a demon from the underworld. His blades pierced the glass in a swift, clean strike, impaling the pilot through the stomach.

"Aaaahhh!!"

The co-pilot reached for controls, but Arthur was faster. With surgical precision, he slashed the windshield in a tight circle, ripped a frag grenade from his belt, bit off the pin, and tossed it into the cabin.

He didn't stay to admire his work. A moment later, he jumped off the floating AV and flipped back toward the rooftop.

BOOM!!!

The explosion rocked the building. A plume of fire and smoke tore the aircraft apart midair, sending flaming debris spiraling toward the streets below.

Arthur landed in a crouch just in time for a blade to come screaming toward his chest.

CLANG!

He blocked it with crossed mantis arms, the force sliding him back several feet. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Before him stood a woman clad in a rare chrome-black exosuit. Her stance was flawless, her intent deadly.

Arthur looked at her and grimaced. "You're trying to murder your husband, huh? God won't forgive that."

Behind them, the burning wreckage of the Trauma Team AV crashed into the street, detonating a second time as it hit ground zero. The impact sent shockwaves through the area, killing a dozen Arasaka foot soldiers and scattering NCPD like bowling pins.

Some of the nearby civilians—rubberneckers and black-market journalists—were too close to escape.

A few were vaporized instantly, others shredded by shrapnel.

Of course, the real civilians were watching from the outside of the quarantine zone. The ones dumb enough to be inside? Reporters, mercs, thrill-seekers. Not exactly model citizens.

Arthur kept his blades up, still focused on the assassin in front of him.

Her voice came sharp and full of righteous fury.

"You're under arrest! The explosion alone gives you seven counts—public endangerment, murder, arson—"

Arthur groaned. "Stop, stop, stop. Just say I did everything. That's easier, right?"

She didn't flinch.

But Arthur smirked, his HUD pinging. The crew was clear.

It was time for Act Two.

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