Cyberpunk Patriarch

So it turns out there's an extra fee?

That makes things much simpler. Big corporations like these are overflowing with cash.

If the Voodoo Gang could be taken down with money, the Internet Monitoring Company would be more than willing to pay a hefty sum for their demise.

The network monitor pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He couldn't understand why cyberpunks always spoke in riddles instead of being direct.

"Alright, Mr. Arthur, please forgive me for being a very straightforward science and engineering man. In the future, I'd appreciate it if you spoke plainly."

He leaned back and folded his arms. "Now, what exactly do you want from the Internet Monitoring Company?"

Arthur smirked, crossing his legs casually.

"A science and engineering man, huh? That's interesting. I always thought the guys in your company were too busy scheming against each other to get any real work done. They all have seven orifices and exquisite hearts—full of deception. Even if they don't outright lie, they never show their true abilities either."

He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "Since you've already looked into my background, you should know what I'm planning next."

The network monitor stayed silent, waiting for Arthur to continue.

Arthur chuckled. "Once this information gets out, the pharmaceutical companies making their fortunes off inhibitors will want me dead."

"Though I've already secured a backup plan and I'm in negotiations, one company alone isn't enough. I need you to take a stand and absorb some of the pressure on my behalf."

The network monitor immediately shook his head like a rattling drum.

"Absolutely not. Our company dominates the industry precisely because we avoid conflicts. We help clean up viruses, untangle AI-driven messes, and make the web a more stable place.

"That's why we have the support of the entire online world. The moment we get involved in something like this, we'll be dragged into corporate warfare. Why give up a position of power just to meddle in these affairs?"

Arthur waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't be so quick to say no. I'm not asking you to go to war—I just need you to spread some rumors at critical moments. That should be your company's specialty, no?"

The network monitor narrowed his eyes. "Spreading rumors? That's quite the accusation, Mr. Arthur."

Arthur scoffed. "Come on, don't act innocent. Your company has been claiming for years that the Blackwall is secure. Do you really think I don't know the truth?"

"Forget me—even regular folks in Night City know it's not safe behind the Blackwall."

The network monitor sighed.

"You're being unfair, Mr. Arthur. We've worked hard to manage the situation. Killing gods isn't easy, after all."

"But if all you want is some rumors to be spread, we can do that."

He paused for a moment, then added, "But with all due respect, why not just sell the patent directly to a biotech company? They'd probably pay far more than you'd make selling it yourself."

Arthur leaned back, thoughtful.

Of course, he knew the network monitor was right.

Biotech and pharmaceutical companies producing inhibitors would happily pay a fortune for this patent—not to use it, but to bury it.

If they could suppress this breakthrough, ordinary people would be forced to continue buying their inhibitors.

This business was worth billions.

Arthur tilted his head and gave the network monitor a sharp grin.

"You claim your company does 'thankless' work for the greater good. So why can't I do something thankless for the people of this world?"

The network monitor's lips twitched slightly. He finally understood—Arthur wasn't just after money. He had bigger ambitions.

Indeed, selling the patent to a biotech company would make Arthur incredibly rich—richer than he would be if he tried to distribute it himself.

But money alone wasn't enough.

Wealth without power just made you a fat target.

Without his own foundation, his own people, and his own security, Arthur would be nothing more than a rich man waiting to be taken down.

Power Comes from People, and Money Follows

What made Arasaka and Militech powerful?

Was it their research labs or their cutting-edge technology?

No.

Their true strength came from the people who relied on them—the massive network of employees, soldiers, and families who depended on them for survival.

Talent was power. People were the foundation of everything.

Money and influence were built upon those who stood behind you.

When hundreds of thousands of people rely on you for their livelihood, that's when you realize you've reached the top of the world.

Even if a rival corporation wants to take you down, they have to consider the families and communities connected to your empire.

They must weigh whether they can handle the economic crisis that would follow if your organization collapsed.

That's the true power behind corporations.

And Arthur understood this.

If all he wanted was money, he could have stayed a mercenary, taken on safe jobs, and waited for an opportunity.

He could have shorted Arasaka stocks at the right moment and made a fortune when the company inevitably fell.

Then he could have used that wealth to do a few favors for V or Jackie.

But so what?

Would that make him safe?

Would that make him powerful?

No.

Without a real foundation, he'd just be another rich man waiting to be eliminated.

A New Demand

"By the way," Arthur suddenly added, "I have one more condition. I need a legal identity."

The network monitor raised an eyebrow.

Arthur grinned. "I figure your company can handle that, right?"

In this world, Internet Monitoring Companies had their hands in everything.

Every major corporation used their services in some way.

That meant they had deep access to internal systems, hidden backdoors, and influence across multiple sectors.

Forging an identity in Night City was child's play for them.

The network monitor nodded.

"That's not a big deal. In fact, we do this all the time. It's a useful tool for securing loyalty."

After all, countless people entered Night City illegally—runaways, criminals, rebels, deserters.

Some had stolen from corporations. Others had pissed off the wrong rich kid.

For one reason or another, they couldn't use their real identities.

Without registration, they were ghosts—no rights, no resources, no future.

"Wait a minute," the network monitor said suddenly, "I need to ask first. This isn't for someone who committed some horrific crime, right? No corporate bombing or mass murder?"

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"If it were, you wouldn't even have the authority to question it. Don't worry—it's just for a deserter."

The network monitor exhaled in relief.

Deserters were one thing.

Whether they were former soldiers or corporate security defectors, they weren't high-profile enough to cause major problems.

For the Internet Monitoring Company, providing them with legal identities was just another routine transaction.

And just like that, the deal was sealed.

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